Love and Motorbikes
by Tobiiiaaas
Summary: Tragedy lurks everywhere and among the least suspected. Will Jac and Oliver be able to pull off a vital heart transplant or will the return of an eminent cardiac surgeon put an end to Jac's reign as Queen of Holby?
1. Chapter 1

**PART ONE**

There was smoke billowing everywhere. Car horns beeped aggressively, tyres screeched and people screamed endlessly. Sirens began to fill the air as the smoke thickened, disguising the bright orange fire. But the horrid crackling could not be masked. A motorbike lay on its side in shreds, its rider missing. There was a smear of blood beside it and a trickling stream of petrol snaking its way towards the flames.

"Help us! Please God help us!" the sound of a man's voice screeching filled the night as he lay trapped beneath the upturned bonnet of a wrecked BMW. He could see the flames approaching him from the left and the petrol trickling towards from the right. He tried in vain to release his leg but the pain was unbearable. He twisted his head at an awkward angle; he saw her. A young woman with striking high cheekbones and shining long ginger hair. A motorcycle helmet lay beside her and he could see that she was in tremendous pain as she clutched at her side. Jac Naylor lifted up her head and stared back at him. Her eyes swam with tears from the immense pain. She could see the man still struggling to release his leg and motioned for him to stop.

"Help is coming," she mouthed, but as Jac turned away the petrol met with the fire and ignited silently. The man's screams turned to yelps of agony as the flames licked his face relentlessly yet all too quickly he fell silent and lay dead. The fire turned towards Jac. She couldn't move, her legs were frozen. It approached closer and closer, she could smell the flames. In another few moments it would all be over. This was how it would end. Nothing in her life amounted to anything. And then, Jac Naylor passed out.

_Three Hours Earlier_

"My office now!"

"Bu...?"

"Now Valentine!" Oliver's protests fell to nothingness as Jac fixed him with a trademark look of intense fury. She turned away from him and strode elegantly in the direction of her office, Oliver fell into an obedient step behind her. He didn't dare speak, one wrong word could cost him valuable theatre time and not just today, who knew how long Naylor would have him doing everyone's paperwork for? Oliver was so lost in his thoughts that he was caught unawares when Jac turned around sharply. "What the hell did you think you were doing?" She demanded.

"I thought if I could get through to the patient then we could..." He fell silently suddenly. Jac glared.

"Do you realise that thanks to your efforts Dr. Valentine, the patient is now considering taking action against you?" Oliver looked as if all the air had been punched out of him. "And that she is now totally refusing to go through with the operation, a much needed and necessary operation, at all?" Oliver couldn't speak, he just listened as she berated him. "Which means that you have just wasted my time as well as yours!"

"I don't know what to say," Oliver said helplessly.

"You never do Valentine, that's the problem." Jac sighed. "If she doesn't get that transplant...it's now or never Oliver. It's your mess, sort it!"

"How?"

"Stand on your head? Juggle? I don't know, do whatever it takes because I am not going to lose a patient because of your idiocy!" Oliver stood unmoving. "Now?"

"Right, yes, sorry," Oliver left her office with his tail firmly between his legs.

"What do you want now?" the patient sighed, obviously annoyed, as Oliver sidled into view.

"Look, Mrs. Waterman, whatever I said, I didn't mean to cause offence," Oliver pleaded. "It's just that this heart transplant is a monumentally vital operation and this is your only chance."

"I'm sorry. I know you're only trying to help but I have made my decision. I'm not having the procedure," Mrs. Waterman replied stubbornly.

"If you don't take this heart, there won't be another one," Oliver told her with determination in his voice. "You will die." Mrs. Waterman looked up at him and through the stubbornness it was obvious that she was scared.

"I'm not ready for it...what if I die on the table?"

"Ms. Naylor is an excellent surgeon, she's one of the best," Oliver reassured her.

"But there's still a risk?"

"Every operation carries some degree of risk. The risk of not having the op is far greater." Mrs. Waterman was quiet, thinking the situation over in her head. Behind them, Jac had appeared.

"Valentine." Oliver swivelled around so fast that his neck cricked. Jac sniggered. He grimaced slightly. "Has Mrs. Waterman changed her mind?"

"She's thinking it over," Oliver told her quietly.

"We haven't got all day Valentine." A sharp cough interrupted them. They turned back to Mrs. Waterman.

"I've decided," she said simply. "I will have the operation."

"You've made the right choice," Jac told her. Mrs. Waterman fixed her with a steely look.

"We'll see."

"I've spoken to UK transplant, the donor organ will be ready to pick up in half an hour," Jac told Oliver. "Is theatre being prepped?"

"I'll get on to that now," Oliver said quickly.

"Keep it together Valentine! I'm sure you want to assist?"

"Can I? That would be an amazing opportunity," Oliver could barely contain his excitement.

"Valentine?"

"Yes, Ms. Naylor?"

"Can I make a suggestion?"

"Yes?" Oliver said feeling a bit unsure now.

"Lose the drool." With that, Jac walked away, leaving Oliver to reach for his face and wipe his mouth on the back of his hand.

Mrs. Waterman lay in her bed in a cold sweat. She had agreed to the transplant out of fear for a worse outcome. She knew that without a new heart she only had weeks at the maximum left but she couldn't help feeling so unimaginably scared. She had never taken such a huge risk before in her life. Maybe that was the problem? Maybe if she'd taken more risks she wouldn't be in this situation in the first place? She sighed. It was no good thinking this way. The decision was made. She had to go through with it. Nobody ever said life was easy. She hated hospitals. She had always dreaded family or friends being admitted as she would have had to visit them and face the godawful stench of a hospital ward. Now here she lay, on one of the very wards she had always despised, alone with no visitors. Not that anyone knew she was here. She and Pete had separated the previous year, before the heart problem had worsened severely.

"Mrs. Waterman is there anyone you would like me to call?" Oliver asked compassionately. She thought about this.

"My husband, his number is in my phone," she beckoned feebly at her belongings beside the bed. Oliver nodded and took out the phone. "Pete." Oliver nodded again as he scrolled through the contacts. He found it and quickly scribbled down the number on his hand. He replaced the phone in her bag and headed to the Nurses Station.

"Hello is that Pete Waterman? It's Dr. Valentine here from Holby City Hospital. We have your wife here on Darwin Ward..." Jac watched Oliver carry out his tasks and couldn't help feeling just a tiny bit proud of him. It had been a whole two hours since his last screwup. She checked her phone.

"Valentine." Oliver had just put down the phone. He looked up at Jac and nodded. "I need to go get that heart," she told him. Oliver nodded again. "What are you, Churchill the nodding dog?" Without waiting for a response Jac strode towards the locker room.

With a satisfying rumble, Jac's prized motorbike roared to life and set off on its journey. The sun was shining, the roads were clear and the motorbike was riding in perfect condition. Jac never saw it coming. There was no time to steer out of the way. No time to slow down. It came out of nowhere. Something ploughed straight into her side and she could feel herself being lifted out of the seat and flung sideways like a sack of potatoes. Jac Naylor hit the ground with a sickening crunch. Her helmet had become dislodged in the collision and now slipped off entirely. It lay beside her, cracked. Jac could hear the screech of metal on tarmac as her bike slid along the road. Then the sound was replaced by the frantic howls of car horns as vehicles going both ways swerved frantically to avoid the obstacles that littered everywhere. Jac could sense it happening before it did. Two cars collided head on and flipped over each other. The first car, a BMW, flipped over and over, the driver's door flew open and its occupant felt himself toppled out on to the street below. He looked up just as his car flipped one last time and came to a rest, bonnet down on his right leg, pinning him to the ground. The other car erupted in flames, whilst Jac's motorbike slowly leaked petrol.

**TO BE CONTINUED **


	2. Chapter 2

**PART TWO**

_Oliver_

Oliver Valentine watched from the window as Jac Naylor kickstarted her motorbike and rode away from the hospital. He couldn't help smiling at the sight of her all clad in dark leather.

"Dr. Valentine?" A sharp voice brought Oliver quickly down to earth. He turned away from the window to find himself staring into the chest of Henrik Hanssen. Hanssen was peering down at him quizzically. "Do you have nothing better to do than stare out of windows?" Oliver swallowed uncertainly.

"Yes, Mr. Hanssen."

"Get to it then," Hanssen gave Oliver one final scowl and skulked away.

"Dr. Valentine! Oliver!" Shouts were issuing from the nearest bed and Oliver reacted instinctively. He rushed towards the calls.

"What seems to be the problem?" he said to Mary Claire, for it had been she who had shouted so urgently.

"She started fitting, but it subsided just before you got here," Mary Claire told him. Oliver took off the stethoscope from around his neck and placed it on the patient's chest, listening to her heartbeat.

"Heartbeat seems fine," Oliver concluded, removing the stethoscope from her chest. "Are you in any pain Ms. Morton?" Ms. Morton shot him a piercing glare.

"I'm absolutely fine and dandy," she replied, sarcastically. Oliver let out a heavy sigh.

"If you don't tell us what's wrong with you, we can't help you," he told her authoritatively. "What caused the fitting?" Ms. Morton looked up at him with glistening eyes.

"It's nothing to do with why I'm here," she said reluctantly. "I was diagnosed as epileptic at St. James' six months ago." Oliver scribbled down the new information on her notes. He turned to Mary Claire.

"Can you get on to St. James' and ask them to explain why this wasn't in her notes?" Mary Claire smiled and walked away. Oliver returned to Ms. Morton. "Have you been taking your medication?"

"Ah." Oliver quickly tried to disguise his look of exasperation. "I was," Ms. Morton explained, "but I thought they might interfere with my operation here..." Oliver did his best to reassure her.

"Is there any news?" Mrs. Waterman asked softly as Oliver sidled past her, his arms full of patient notes. He looked rushed off his feet.

"I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything," he informed her. Mrs. Waterman nodded curtly as Oliver faded from her view. Oliver slammed the notes down on the desk hard.

"Something the matter Oliver?" Mary Claire asked, glancing up at him.

"You would not believe the amount of paperwork Ms. Naylor has left for me!" Oliver said, the tone of annoyance in his voice was unmistakeable.

"Well, you did screw up," Mary Claire replied, helpfully.

"I sorted it out. I thought she'd let me off..."

"We are talking about the same Jac Naylor here right?"

"Fair point. Where is she anyway? She should be back by now," Oliver said. Mary Claire shrugged. Their conversation was cut short by reappearance of Hanssen. He looked grave.

"I need to see everyone downstairs. Urgently."

"A major traffic collision has occurred on the highway between Holby City Hospital and Holby City Airport-"

"That's where Jac was headed," Oliver muttered to Elliot.

"Are you sure?" Elliot whispered back. Oliver nodded.

"-There is as of yet no word on what caused the accident but we have been told to expect multiple casualties. As the ED is at full capacity, AAU has been designated the receiving ward. Mr. Hemingway and Mr. Spence will take charge there. We will need a small response team that Mr. Spence has volunteered, graciously, to lead."

"I'll go," Oliver said quickly. Hanssen nodded. Mary Claire indicated her involvement to Hanssen.

"That's settled then. Mr. Spence, Dr. Valentine and Nurse Carter will form the response team. Everyone else, we will require constant vigilance to get through today. I have the utmost faith in all of you."

"Valentine, Carter, with me," Michael called.

_Jac _

Jac Naylor grimaced. Her whole body shook with pain as she tried to steer herself out of the path of the oncoming flames. She could hear the sirens coming closer, hear the roaring crackle of the flames and the screams echoing around her. The stench of burning flesh filled the air, blocking out all other smells. Jac could feel the trickle of petrol licking her side and instinctively she rolled away from it. Moments later, the place where she had lain erupted into flames.

"Valentine!" Jac lifted her head, listening to the new voices. "OLIVER!" Jac was paying full attention now.

"Jac! Jac!" She could hear Oliver calling for her, he was standing just a few feet away from her and now she recognised the other voice, Spence's.

"Oliver you do not rush into the scene of an accident unsupervised!" Oliver was ignoring him.

"Jac!" He shouted desperately.

"Valentine?" Jac called back weakly. Oliver turned around sharply. He looked down and saw Jac lying spreadeagled.

"Oliver get back here!" Spence came into view. He opened his mouth to berate Oliver but then he caught sight of Jac. "Jac?" He said, his voice full of surprise. "Today is full of surprises."

**TO BE CONTINUED **


	3. Chapter 3

**PART THREE**

Michael knelt down beside Jac, examining her pulse. Her breathing was shallow. She wretched suddenly, throwing up all down her front.

"Come on Naylor, don't be giving up on me now," Michael said urgently. Jac coughed, trying to laugh.

"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction," she spluttered.

"That's my girl," Michael replied. He turned to Oliver. "Valentine, you stay with Jac, keep her talking. Mary Claire keep an eye on him." Michael clambered to his feet and strode off in search of the other victims; all too soon he was masked by the smoke. Oliver was visibly nervous.

"You look like crap," Jac said. "And I'm the one lying here in my own vomit." Oliver stifled a spontaneous giggle. "So Valentine, what's the damage?" Jac winced as Oliver knelt to examine her. He placed a hand on her rib cage and felt around gingerly.

"Three ribs feel fractured," he told her. "Jac...we are going to get you out of here, aren't we nurse Carter?" Mary Claire nodded. "See?"

"Well, now I do feel reassured." Jac dissolved into a fresh coughing fit. She stared up at Oliver, watching as he drifted in and out of focus.

"Did you hit your head in the collision?" Oliver asked, his voice echoing with concern.

"I can't remember...possibly, I don't know," Jac said. "When are you going to get me out of here?"

"As soon as we can," Oliver said. "Trust me."

"I trust you."

"Thank you."

"Just don't screw up." They both laughed but almost immediately Jac's laughs turned to screams as the pain intensified all over her body. Then, as quickly as it had started, she fell silent.

"Jac!" Oliver grabbed her wrist searching desperately for a pulse. He couldn't find one. "Jac!" He looked up, scanning the horizon. "Mary Claire, get Mr. Spence now!" Mary Claire hesitated. "NOW!" Oliver yelled at the top of his lungs. He turned back to Jac and rolled her on to her back. "Come on Naylor, you're not doing this to me. Not here. Not today!" He began chest compressions. There was no response. "COME ON PLEASE! DON'T DO THIS TO ME!" Another cycle of chest compressions and this time it worked, Jac spluttered back into consciousness. Oliver relaxed with a heavy sigh. "I thought I'd lost you..." Jac stared right through him.

"Oliver what happened?" Michael was back, flanked by two paramedics carrying a spinal board.

"I don't know. We were talking and then she just passed out. I got her back."

"Well done," Michael said proudly. "Right, Jac, we're going to get you in the ambulance now." Jac was lifted carefully onto the spinal board. "Oliver go with her," Michael instructed him. Oliver nodded and followed the paramedics carrying Jac back to the ambulance.

"Excuse me," Mrs. Waterman said. "Is there any news about my husband?"

"I'm afraid I haven't heard anything," Chantelle said sadly.

"He should be here by now..."

"There's been a major incident. Traffic's been delayed all over Holby." Mrs. Waterman sat up.

"An incident? Where?"

"On the highway, somewhere between here and the airport. I don't know exactly." Chantelle spotted the look in Mrs. Waterman's eyes.

"He would have been coming that way..." Mrs. Waterman's voice trailed off into nothingness. "Oh my god. He's involved. I know it!"

"I'm sure he'll be okay," Chantelle attempted to reassure her.

"Can you promise me?"

"You know I can't."

Michael trawled his way through the wreckage of bodies and metal. The fire had at last been extinguished and it was now safe to get to the centre of the mass of broken vehicles.

"Can anyone hear me?" He called, although he doubted that anyone would respond.

"Hello?" A croaky voice replied. "Help me! I'm trapped! I can't feel my legs!" Michael followed the direction of the shouts.

"I'm coming for you, don't try to move!" He shouted back. Finally, Michael traced the shouts to a largely crushed car, tilted slightly and wedged between two other vehicles. He wrenched open the passenger door. The owner of the shouts was crammed tightly between the steering wheel and the driver's seat. The airbag had failed to deploy.

"I can't feel anything below my waist," he said. His eyes were watering from the pain.

"Steady, what's your name?" Michael asked.

"Pete. Pete Waterman."

"Hello Pete. Michael Spence, I'm a consultant at Holby City Hospital." Pete winced.

"Holby City? My ex-wife's there. I was on my way when...when all this happened." Pete coughed. "Margaret Waterman. They said she was on Darwin Ward or something...I haven't seen her in about a year." Michael raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

"One of our top consultant's was involved in the accident. She was on her way to pick up a new heart. For Margaret."

"Is she okay?" Michael looked forlorn.

"I hope so," he said but he did not sound convinced. "Right now, my main concern is you." He peered down at Pete's legs but they were obscured by blood stained twisted metal.

"It's bad isn't it Doctor?" Pete said, his voice becoming ragged and croakier. Michael didn't reply. "Tell it to me straight. Please."

"If we get you out alive, you're probably facing the rest of your life in a wheelchair."

"At least I'd be alive." Pete struggled for breath. "That'd be something."

"'I've gotta tell you, the chances of you surviving this are minimal. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm sure you're doing your best. Can I ask a favour?" Michael's eyes narrowed. "If I don't make it out of here, can you get a message to Margaret for me."

"Of course."

"Tell her...tell her that I'm sorry and that...no just tell her I'm sorry. She'll understand." Michael nodded.

"Can I get some help here now!"

"Get out the way! Out the way now!" Oliver led the way as Jac was wheeled onto AAU. "This is Jac Naylor, she's tachycardic and low responsive." Luc took control from Oliver.

"She's losing output." Oliver was pale. "We have to get her straight into theatre."

**TO BE CONTINUED **


	4. Chapter 4

**PART FOUR**

The heart monitors beeped monotonously. Luc's hand was steady as a rock as he performed the operation on Jac Naylor. So far, everything was running like clockwork. Luc worked silently, acknowledging his fellow theatre workers only when he required their assistance. They were used to his method of working by now, even if he still bewildered them as a person.

"All right let's close up," Luc said softly, breaking the sustained silence.

Oliver paced relentlessly, waiting for news. They were still in the middle of a majax but Oliver had found it impossible to concentrate whilst Jac was still in theatre. Dark thoughts kept pulsating through his mind. What if she didn't pull through? Despite their differences and numerous clashes, Oliver could scarcely bare to think that Jac Naylor, the always dependably there Jac Naylor, could possibly succumb to something as mortally weak as death. Oliver knew that without Jac he probably would have abandoned his medical career for a life of, as Jac would put it, mediocrity. As he paced, he thought about all the times he had fought against Jac's style of mentoring, all the times he had given in to doubt and changed pathways. He knew at last that he belonged in cardiothoracics. He belonged under the tutelage of Jacqueline Naylor. But that wasn't where his feelings ended. Ever since he had arrived at Holby City Hospital with his sister Penny in June 2009, he had harboured a strange fascination for the beautiful redhead. He admired her sheer bolshiness, her knack for always speaking her mind, her determination to be the best that she could be and not to be dragged down by anyone or anything else. But on the flip side he found her infuriatingly arrogant and she wound him up more than anyone else had ever been able to do. He wondered whether a relationship with her would ever have been possible, there was that one time, that new year time where...

"Oliver!" Oliver shook himself out of his thoughts. "Jac's out of theatre now. The operation was a complete success," said Luc and without waiting for Oliver to respond, he stomped away.

Jac opened her eyes groggily. Everything was blurred, the colours bled into each other, the walls dripped as if they were melting and the sound of the monitors were like an annoying fly, buzzing continuously in her ears. She felt dizzy. She felt sick. Her memory was hazy.

"Jac?" She searched around for the source of this new sound. Her eyes homed in upon a fuzzy outline of a young male.

"Oliver," she said resignedly.

"I was worried about you," Oliver said, the concern in his voice unmistakable. Jac turned over in the bed, facing away from him. "What happened?"

"I don't remember."

"But..."

"I said I don't remember!" Jac raised her voice. Oliver changed tact.

"How are you feeling?" Jac twisted her head round and shot him an incredulous look. "Ah, that bad."

"Valentine, if I am to endure the pleasure of your company could we at least talk about something that's actually important?" Oliver opened his mouth, then closed it again abruptly. "Mrs. Waterman's transplant?"

"I...er...well with everything that's happened, I..."

"Yes?"

"I forgot." Jac sighed exasperatedly.

"You forgot. Come on Oliver! Has anyone spoken to her?"

"I'm not sure." Jac stared at him frustratedly.

"Come back when you've spoken to her."

"But..." Oliver protested feebly. Jac turned away from him again and did not respond.

Mrs. Waterman sat twiddling her thumbs. No one had been to see to her for over two hours now and she was beginning to feel more than a little abandoned. She appreciated that the hospital was overstretched but someone could have at least seen to her. Five minutes would have been sufficient. Furthermore, she had still heard no word from Pete. She peered behind her bed and saw Dr. Valentine marching towards her. At last, she thought silently. Perhaps she was about to hear some news.

"So you've remembered me then?" Mrs. Waterman asked, reproachfully.

"I'm really really sorry about everything Mrs. Waterman. I neglected my duties. I have no excuse," Oliver rambled. Mrs. Waterman shook her head to silence him.

"You're worried about someone, I can see it in your eyes. There's no need to apologise to me. Just, let me know the situation and I'll be fine. I promise." Oliver couldn't believe this was the same woman who had earlier almost caused a complete nightmare for him.

"There's no easy way to say this, but you're not, there's no..." Oliver cleared his throat. "We're going to have to reschedule the transplant. I'm sorry. Call it unmitigating circumstances." Mrs. Waterman's lip trembled. She had been waiting so long for this and to have it snatched away when she finally had it within her grasp was too much to bare. She bit her lip, determined to keep face in front of Oliver.

"I understand." Oliver turned to leave. "Is there any news on my husband?" She called out.

"I'll find out for you. I promise." Oliver walked away.

Jac was covered in a cold sweat. She shivered uncontrollably as she tried to recall what had happened. She shut her eyes and screwed up her eyelids tight. Jac could see flashes of events in her mind. The day she met Joseph...the day she made the choice to throw it all away. Jac focussed, fighting against these painful memories. But even as she fought, the image of Joseph became stronger in her mind. Jac could see him, she could smell his aftershave and even feel the bristles of hair on his chin. His calm voice penetrated her consciousness as easily as he had invaded her soul when he had been around. Jac continued to fight for the happier memories, the times when she and Joseph had been an unbreakable team and the bond between them indestructible. Yet all she could see were all those moments where she had single-handedly destroyed the trust between them with her selfish greed to better herself. Her insatiable desire to be superior over everybody else had turned all the relationships in her life sour. In her mind, Joseph looked at her with pure unadulterated loathing oozing from his eyes. Without realising what she was doing, Jac raised her hand to her face and could feel the bruise that Joseph had caused all those years ago as though it had happened only yesterday. Then she saw it in her mind, in painful slow-motion, Joseph hitting her, the fury in his movements, the rage in his eyes like a beast uncaged. What if she had died? Jac thought suddenly. What did she really have to show for her life? She had her career and...that was it. She opened her eyes and a silent tear slid down her cheek.

**TO BE CONTINUED **


	5. Chapter 5

**PART FIVE**

Night had fallen outside Holby City Hospital, stars twinkled in the moonlight, disguising the overlying feeling of gloom that had descended over the building. Henrik Hanssen smiled as he stepped outside to address the mass of venomous press reporters who had gathered to hear the hospital's verdict on the day's events. Hanssen excelled at dealing with journalists, well, he excelled at pretty much everything else too for that matter. As he spoke, the hospital inside still worked efficiently at breakneck speed dealing with the dozens of cases from the RTC. Luc and Eddi busied themselves on AAU as they finally began to clear through the immense backlog of patients. Their scrubs were bloodstained and stank of vomit. Over on Keller, Ric Griffin and Antoine Malick dealt succinctly with their overflow of patients, whilst on Darwin the staff worked as hard as ever and Mrs. Waterman lay alone in her bed, still waiting for news on her husband. Back at the accident site, Michael Spence waited with Pete Waterman as the firefighters attempted to cut him out of the wrecked car. Pete gulped and it was clear to Michael that he wouldn't hold on for much longer. All Michael could do now was sit with him and wait for the inevitable. It was something Michael had done a thousand times through his career and yet each time it still hit him like a falling brick to the head.

"It's getting colder," Pete said weakly.

"Try not to talk," Michael told him gently.

"I'm not getting out of this am I?" Michael didn't respond. He felt torn. He didn't want to lie to Pete, but neither did he want to scare him. "It's all right," Pete murmured. "You've done the best you can, no one could possibly have asked for more." He gave a sudden shudder from the pain that coursed through his body.

"It shouldn't have to be this way," Michael sighed. "We should be able to do more." Pete did not respond. Michael checked his pulse. He was gone. "I'm sorry," Michael said softly.

"I could not be more proud of the medical staff of this hospital," Hanssen dictated to the press. "They have worked tirelessly and done more than anyone could have asked of them." Hanssen did not bat an eyelid as a dishevelled looking Michael Spence jogged past him. "Firstly I must highlight the astounding work done by Mr. Luc Hemingway and Senior Nurse Eddi McKee on the Acute Admissions Ward..."

Michael Spence stormed into the lift, impatiently jabbing the button for Darwin Ward. The lift moved painfully slow. Michael's breathing became heavier as he paced around in the lift. Eventually it reached the floor he wanted and the doors whirred into life.

"Doors opening." Michael stepped through and made his way onto the ward.

"Mrs. Waterman?" Margaret Waterman looked up at the voice and could tell from the saddened look in Chantelle's eyes that she was about to receive some very bad news. Before Chantelle could speak however, Michael appeared and ushered her away.

"Michael Spence, Consultant General Surgeon," Michael informed Mrs. Waterman. "I've got some bad news about your husband I'm afraid."

"I suspected as much," Mrs. Waterman said resignedly. Michael pulled up a chair beside her bed and sat down.

_One Week Later_

Ms. Morton began to fit violently. She writhed and convulsed in her bed causing it to shake and rattle severely. Mary Claire reacted instinctively.

"Mr. Hope! I need some help here!" Elliot stampeded into view, his stethoscope dangling around his neck at a typically peculiar angle that highlighted his shambolic appearance.

"What happened here nurse Carter?"

"She's epileptic Mr. Hope," Mary Claire explained as she attempted to restrain Ms. Morton from causing herself injury. Finally, the fit appeared to subside. Mr. Hope listened to her heart; it was racing.

"Elinor you've just had a severe epileptic fit. Is there anyone we can call for you?"

"My brother, Derek," Elinor Morton wheezed. "His details are on my notes."

"If you could do the honours nurse Carter?" Elliot asked, smiling at her. Mary Claire nodded curtly and strode away. Elliot turned back to Elinor. "When did you stop taking your medication?"

"As soon as I found out when my operation was," Elinor replied. Elliot gave her an understanding sigh.

"As I understand it, you're booked in for theatre later today?" Elinor nodded. "Right, well promise me that you'll start taking your medication again afterwards?" Elinor nodded again. "Thank you. I would hate to see you jeopardise your wellbeing."

Oliver pushed open the door that led to Jac's private room on the ward. After a week she was beginning to look her old self although Oliver couldn't help noticing that she still appeared extremely pale. Someone had left a parcel by her bedside that she hadn't unwrapped yet.

"Who's that from?" Oliver said, indicating the stick-shaped parcel. Jac picked up the parcel without replying. A note fell from the package on to her chest. She picked it up and as she read a smile formed on her face.

_Thought you could use an old friend JN. _She threw the note aside. It came to rest at Oliver's feet. He bent down and picked it up, curiously.

"It's addressed from you?" He asked, puzzled. "Are you sending yourself presents?" Jac raised her eyebrows at him. "Firstly, why? Secondly, how?" Oliver babbled on.

"It's not a present. It's my old walking stick. I wrote the note as a private joke and arranged for the stick to be brought in," Jac said with an exasperated sigh. Oliver's mouth formed the word 'oh' in evidence of dawning comprehension.

"How are you feeling?" Oliver asked.

"I swear the next person to ask me that is going to have severe issues rearing family," Jac seethed. Oliver took a step back from her.

"Luc said you should be discharged today," Oliver said. "That's good news isn't it?"

"I suppose." Jac scowled. "What do you want Oliver?"

"I just want the old Jac Naylor back to her best and raring to go," Oliver replied firmly. "We've still got that transplant to work on," he continued.

"Only if another heart becomes available," Jac said solemnly.

"Luck must be on our side then," Oliver replied and at last a hint of the old Jac returned. A glint of yearning on her beautiful but haunted eyes.

**TO BE CONTINUED **


	6. Chapter 6

**PART SIX**

Jac looked at Oliver with interest. She was admiring the new, more focussed and determined Dr. Valentine; it was entirely down to her influence and mentorship of course. Jac smiled. It had now been two days since she had been discharged and although rest and recuperation had been prescribed by Michael, Jac was determined to get stuck back into her job. She wasn't going to let a trivial accident impact on her ability to save lives and as she hobbled around Darwin ward, leaning on her old walking stick, Oliver couldn't help but admire her sheer tenacity. As she began her walk towards Mrs. Waterman, her nose wrinkled at the mephitic odour that was emitting from a nearby bed.

"Oliver, check on Mr. Peters and make sure he hasn't died without anybody noticing," Jac instructed as she moved on past the radius of the smell. Oliver scowled.

"Mr. Peters?" Oliver's eyes were watering as he stood beside the bed. Mr. Peters lay in the bed, unmoving. He was incredibly frail and at nearly ninety years of age, it was unlikely that he would survive for much longer, particularly due to the fact that, that he was too old to have the surgery he desperately needed. Oliver bent over him and checked his vital signs. They were so faint it was almost as if they weren't there at all. He'd been admitted a few hours ago following a medium-sized heart attack suffered at his home in west Holby. They'd been doing all they could to alleviate the pain he was under but everyone knew that if he were to slip into asystole, it was unlikely that they'd get him back. Oliver saw that he was asleep and did not speak again. Instead, he scanned Mr. Peters with curiosity, determined to discover the source of the unbearable stench. As he checked, Oliver suddenly noticed that the smell could be easily traced to its source and he followed the path of the smell. It was strongest at his left leg. Frowning, Oliver lifted up the bed covers and was hit by a wave of foul-smelling air. He coughed, unable to help himself. Then, gritting his teeth strongly, Oliver gently removed Mr. Peters suede shoes and lifted up his trouser leg. The cause of the odour was apparent immediately. Mr. Peters' left foot and leg were enveloped in gangrene. Oliver wretched. He had seen gangrene before, but you were never prepared for it. He could never understand how anyone could let themselves get into such a state and not notice. Had Mr. Peters noticed? Had he just decided to ignore it? Oliver didn't know.

Jac arrived beside Mrs. Waterman's bed. She placed her walking stick leaning on the bed's frame.

"How are you this morning?" Jac asked assessing Mrs. Waterman's stats gently.

"As well as can be," she replied gingerly. Jac noticed the look of pain etched across her face.

"Where is it hurting?"

"It's nothing," Mrs. Waterman replied quickly. "I don't want to cause any more fuss." Jac rolled her eyes towards the ceiling.

"We can't help you if you don't tell us what the problem is," Jac told her forcefully. Mrs. Waterman sighed.

"It's just a pain in my stomach, it's honestly nothing. Probably just indigestion or something..."

"You're nil by mouth." Jac cut across her. "Come on let me have a look." Reluctantly, Mrs. Waterman nodded. Jac lent over her, feeling her stomach between her fingers. "Tell me where it hurts." Jac moved her hand towards the right side of her stomach. Mrs. Waterman convulsed suddenly. "Here?" She nodded. "Well, it does feel a bit tender, I don't think it's anything to worry about though," Jac said, removing her hand. Mrs. Waterman didn't look so sure.

"How long are you going to keep me cooped up in here?"

"That was what I wanted to talk to you about," Jac said. "A new heart has become available." Mrs. Waterman couldn't believe her ears.

"So soon? I thought I'd be stuck back on the waiting list for ages," she said, surprised.

"We've managed to pull a few strings for you and with luck we should be able to operate on you tomorrow." Mrs. Waterman smiled for the first time in days.

"Thank you Ms. Naylor," she said and she meant it. Jac was taken aback by the look of genuine happiness in her patient's eyes. It was so rare that you got a patient who was actually grateful for their help. Even Jac, who normally didn't particularly care how a patient reacted to her, felt better when a patient was happy than one who was aggressive.

Jac turned away from her bed to find herself almost nose to nose with Oliver. Before he could open his mouth, Jac said:

"Valentine stop. Take two paces backwards and tell me what you just did wrong." Oliver looked nonplussed but did as he was told anyway. He stepped back. Once again before he could speak, Jac spoke across him.

"In your contract you will find the following sentence. It is a sackable offence to for an F2 to stand within two inches of their consultant." Jac swept away in as much dignity as she could whilst limping on her stick, leaving Oliver struggling to comprehend what he'd just heard. Half a second later, understanding dawned.

"Hang on, you just made that up!" He shouted after her. Jac stopped, smirking to herself. She turned around.

"I have never met anyone who squirmed as readily as you Oliver," she said as Oliver came to a halt beside her.

"I've never met anyone who stepped on her colleagues as happily as you," Oliver retorted.

"Touché," Jac said. "What did you want anyway?"

"It's Mr. Peters. His left leg is covered in gangrene. It must have been there for weeks." Jac raised her eyebrows. She limped away from Oliver in the direction of Mr. Peters.

Jac examined the gangrenous leg. She could tell instantly that it was beyond repair. The leg would need amputating and if it wasn't done soon, Mr. Peters could potentially die from complications caused by it because of his advanced age.

"Mr. Peters why didn't you tell us about your leg?"

"I didn' think i' were worth making such a fuss over," he replied faintly. Jac groaned.

"Mr. Peters your leg is crawling with gangrene and if we don't operate you will die."

"I am nine'y years old. Yer ain' gonna scare me now," Mr. Peters replied defiantly. "I'm no' havin' any op an' tha's final." Jac opened her mouth to protest but he fixed her with a piercing stare and she fell silent. "Le' me sign one o' those advanced directive thingies," he continued. Jac nodded.

"If that's they way you feel."

"I' is. I don' wanna be resusci-whatsits. If I my 'eart stops, le' me go." Jac sighed. Her coldhearted exterior that she liked to put on always crumbled in situations like this.

"I'll make sure you get the best palliative care." She walked away.

Footsteps paced along the corridor floor. Relatives and staff looked on in surprise as a man swept past them, his head and body held high, looking as if he owned the entire hospital. He gave off such an aurora of presence that everyone found themselves stepping out of his way instinctively, without thinking. His footsteps echoed loudly as he came closer towards Darwin ward. There was a simple reason why he acted as if he owned the place. He had a long history with this ward although he had not set foot here for just over ten years. He pushed open the doors and stepped on to the ward. Everyone stopped what they were doing. They turned to look at the new arrival. Most did not recognise him but some staff who had worked at the hospital for most of their professional lives did and the look of absolute stunned surprise on their faces was enough to know that this man's reappearance was not something they had ever expected. Jac Naylor's predatory senses were activated. She knew that here was a man who could challenge her authority.

"So this is what my cardiac ward has become," said Anton Meyer. Jac stared at him piercingly. He stared right back at her. Unperturbed. "Walk with me."

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	7. Chapter 7

**PART SEVEN**

Jac Naylor's lips curled into a forced smile, although the murderous look in her eyes gave away her true feelings of the matter as she fell into line beside Meyer.

"They didn't tell you I was coming?" Meyer said emotionlessly. Jac shook her head. "That explains your discontent. Don't concern yourself too much, this is only a short term arrangement I'm afraid." Jac and Meyer turned the corner and continued towards her office.

"Why are you here?" Jac blurted out bluntly. Meyer looked at her with a piercing glare.

"I'm a here to cover for a Mr. Elliot Hope who has had to take some leave," he told her. Jac raised her eyebrows.

"I didn't hear anything about Elliot taking leave?" she asked as they entered the Consultant's Office. Meyer closed the door behind him. Jac dropped all pretence of friendliness and her attitude evolved quickly into Naylor attack mode. Anton Meyer, however, was an unknown quantity to her and she was put off by his lack of reaction.

"As I understand it, Mr. Hope has had to take two weeks off due to a family crisis. It is not our right to scrutinise it nor is it good to spread idle gossip. We are here to do our jobs, isn't that right..." Meyer glanced at her name-badge. "Ms. Naylor?" Jac scowled. "Shall we get on?"

"Unbelievable!" Jac raised her voice dramatically. Hanssen barely looked up from his paperwork. "Elliot goes on leave and no one thinks to inform me of anything?" Jac continued, her blood pressure rising. "And now you've brought in this dinosaur to spy on me!" Hanssen cleared his throat.

"Ms. Naylor don't you think you're being just a little bit melodramatic?" Jac's look of disdain would have been enough to kill a bird stone dead.

"No I don't. You don't think I'm up to this job! You never have, any excuse to watch me fall."

"I have the utmost confidence in your abilities."

"So why is he here?"

"Because you are still recovering from a very serious accident and it was felt by the Board, that due to this it was unfair to leave you to prop up Darwin by yourself. That is why Mr. Meyer has kindly agreed to return to Holby for a period of two weeks. Now if you'll excuse me Ms. Naylor, I really do have to get on." Jac opened her mouth to retort but Hanssen cut her off with a deliberate jab of his finger towards the door. Jac took the hint and left.

Oliver looked up from his work and saw Jac striding towards him.

"Heads up, trouble at twelve o'clock," He muttered to Tara Lo who was shuffling paperwork beside him. Tara lifted her head and she too saw the approaching Naylor. One glimpse of Jac's face was enough to tell Tara that she didn't want to be in her presence. Tara scooped up the paperwork and headed off in the opposite direction, leaving Oliver alone.

"Prep Mr. Samuels for theatre Valentine," Jac ordered. She was apoplectic with rage.

"Are you all right Ms. Naylor?" Oliver asked. Jac's glare went straight through and he wished he had said nothing at all. But Jac didn't attack him. Oliver waited and still no attack came. Jac was smiling. Actually smiling.

"I'll be fine Oliver," she said. "Thank you." Oliver poked at his ears, making sure he had not misheard.

"I'll prep Mr. Samuels," he told her. Jac nodded and strode away.

Mr. Samuels lay in his bed coughing profusely. He was dripping with a nervous sweat as the time of his operation drew ever closer. The procedure had been explained to him but he still felt scared. What if he died on the table? He'd never be able to fulfil his dreams.

"Are you absolutely sure nothing will go wrong?" Mr. Samuels asked Oliver as he was prepped for theatre.

"You know I can't promise that," Oliver replied. "But there really is no need to worry. It's just a routine operation to repair your mitral valve." Mr. Samuels sighed. "You're in the best possible hands Mr. Samuels," Oliver told him.

"And here she is," Mr. Samuels coughed. Oliver turned around.

"I was just explaining that there's nothing to worry about," he said.

"Is the patient prepped?" Jac asked. Oliver nodded. "Good. Let's get him straight into theatre."

The atmosphere in theatre was absolutely silent as Jac passed a catheter with the special balloon from the right femoral vein, up the inferior vena cava and into the right atrium. The minimally invasive procedure needed her full attention. Jac barely noticed as her brow was wiped automatically by one of the scrub nurses.

"BP normal," Oliver said, keeping a close eye on the monitors. Jac proceeded to puncture the interatrial septum and passed the catheter through to the left atrium. Oliver marvelled at her work silently. With this part of the operation concluded, Jac moved on to the next stage. The special balloon was sub-divided into three distinct parts. Jac prepared to dilate them in three stages. The distal portion in Mr. Samuels' left ventricle was inflated, allowing it to pull against the valve cusps.

"Can we get some more light here please?" Jac asked without looking up from her work. With the distal portion dilated, Jac turned her attention to the proximal portion. She dilated it in order to fix the centre segment located at the valve orifice. So far the operation was going smoothly. There were no complications and Mr. Samuels' body was withstanding the procedure nicely. Jac realised later on that she should have been wary at this point. The clockwork nature of the operation should have alerted her senses. But it did not, and as Jac inflated the central section she made a life-defining mistake; she inflated it for 31-seconds. Without realising it, Jac had caused the valve to become obstructed and caused congestion. The heart monitors began to beep warningly.

"BP dropping," Oliver said concerned. Jac couldn't understand.

"What's causing this?" She said angrily. Mr. Samuels' BP continue to fall. Oliver checked the monitors.

"He's gone into circulatory arrest!"

"Defibrillators!" Jac ordered. Mr. Samuels was shocked.

"No change," Oliver said. "Shall I page Mr. Meyer?" Jac didn't respond. She shocked the patient again.

"What is going on?" Jac said, the tone of her voice unmistakably scared. "I've done this procedure a thousand times. I know it like the back of my hand!"

"He's still in circulator arrest Ms. Naylor! If we don't get him back soon, he is going to die!" Oliver raised his voice. Jac glared at him but was secretly impressed by his outburst. Now was not the time for those feelings however. "Jac we need Mr. Meyer here now!" Jac relented. Oliver turned to the scrub nurse. "Page Mr. Meyer. Tell him it's urgent," Oliver informed her. Jac shocked Mr. Samuels a third time. There was a flutter of response. He'd now been down for ten minutes, time was running out...

**TO BE CONTINUED **


	8. Chapter 8

**PART EIGHT**

"Ms. Naylor his BP is through the floor!" Oliver shouted as Jac tried desperately to get Mr. Samuels back. The monitors were flashing monotonously. As each second ticked over they were running ever further out of time.

"Come on! You are not going to do this to me today!" Jac said through gritted teeth. There was a bang behind them. Jac and Oliver turned to see Anton Meyer peering at them. His face was expressionless and they were unable to tell what he was thinking. He moved silently towards the operating table and with one look at Jac, she moved out of his way.

"Pass me the defib," Meyer said calmly. He took hold of the paddles and proceeded to shock Mr. Samuels gently.

"We have sinus rhythm," Oliver said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"All it takes is a little patience Ms. Naylor," Meyer said calculatingly to Jac. Jac frowned as Meyer went on to inspect the work she had carried out in the operation. "Ah, I see what went wrong," Meyer announced cryptically.

"What?" Jac said defensively.

"You inflated the central section for too long and caused an obstruction in the valve. If I just..." Meyer did something that Jac couldn't quite make out. "There we are." He drew back from the patient.

"BP rising," Oliver informed then.

"I'll leave you to close up," Meyer told Jac. Without another word he swept enigmatically out of the theatre.

"How are you feeling Mr. Peters?" Jac asked, trying to take her mind off the debacle in theatre.

"No' so good Ms. Naylor," he coughed splutteringly. Jac shot him a concerned look.

"Are you in any pain at all?" She asked, checking him over. He shook his head but the grimace on his face was a give away. "You mustn't keep it to yourself Mr. Peters, if you're in pain you tell someone straight away. You are just as much responsible for your own health as we are," she told him firmly. Mr. Peters smiled faintly.

"Yer remember wha' I told yer?" he asked. Jac nodded. "I don' wan' bringing back. If I go...when I go, yer le' me die," he pressed on.

"I know," Jac said. He took hold of her hand and squeezed it.

"Thank yer. Death is preferable to this pain..." He let go of it, leaving Jac alone in her thoughts.

"Walk with me," Meyer growled at Jac as she came in to view. Jac's stomach felt uneasy. She sensed she was about to experience a stern ticking off.

"Thank you Mr. Meyer..."

"You have been at this hospital for seven years now, yes?" Meyer said cutting directly across her. Jac nodded curtly. "And in that time you've experienced a number of different disciplines?"

"That is correct Mr. Meyer. I've had rotations in General Surgery as well as Cardiothoracic," Jac told him, trying to keep the hint of pride out of her voice.

"You've been Consultant on Darwin now for how long?" Meyer continued as they turned a corner.

"Just over a year and a half," she replied. Meyer said nothing. He merely thought silently to himself. "Can I ask what this has to do with anything?"

"You may," Meyer said uninterestedly. There was a silence between the pair as Jac waited for Meyer to explain. She looked pointedly at him. "That was quite a basic mistake you made in theatre today. I would have expected it off one of my juniors not my fellow Consultant," he said dangerously. Jac could feel her blood pressure rising but she fought to keep her temper under control. She was not used to Meyer's method of dealing with things.

"With respect Mr. Meyer, I have had a lot on my mind recently..."

"Yes, your accident. I heard," Meyer interjected unsympathetically. "If it is causing you so much distraction, perhaps you ought not to be operating," he continued with a quick glance at her walking stick.

"I'm fine!" Jac said with a flash of defiance in her eyes.

"Yes, evidently," Meyer said and before Jac could retort he had swept into their office, locking the door behind him. Jac made a face at the closed door.

"How old are you Ms. Naylor?" Jac groaned. She turned around expecting to see Hanssen but instead Oliver stood before her.

"Oh it's you," she said with a sigh. "What do you want?"

"Mr. Peters. He's deteriorating rapidly." Jac nodded and the pair of them walked across the ward towards Mr. Peters' bed.

Mr. Peters was thrashing about in the bed, his face purple and contorted in agony. The heart monitors were blasting ferociously as he kicked out, causing himself more pain.

"Mr. Peters!" Jac called trying to get through to him but it was no use. The monitors began to flatline.

"Get the crash team!" Oliver called but Jac cut him off.

"No, he signed a DNR request."

"I know but..." He knew as soon as he saw Jac's face that there was no point in arguing with her.

"Time of death 18:56," Jac called. She breathed heavily. Oliver looked in to her eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, it's just been a long day," she said sternly. Oliver took the hint and left her to her own devices.

Jac sat alone in the staff room, thinking. The room was dark and Jac appreciated the solitary refuge it was providing for her. Her leg ached and twinged. She turned on the radio quietly and listened in silence as _Eye of the Tiger _played out to her. She thought about Mr. Peters and whether or not she ought to have tried to save him. She had done as he wished, there was no question about that and he had been a very sick old man. What quality of life would he have had if they had brought him back?

"Just pain," Jac said softly to herself. "Unending pain. Death is preferable to that." A tear dripped from her eye. Why was one patient's death affecting her so much? She'd seen thousands of deaths. _It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight..._The thrill of the fight, Jac pondered. Yes, maybe that was it. There had been no fight and she had missed out on the thrill. Perhaps that was selfish? But then, you didn't get anywhere by being selfless. Life had taught her that long ago. The door opened quietly behind her.

"Mary Claire told me you were in here," Oliver whispered. Jac didn't answer. She just stared at him, her beautiful green eyes piercing his soul. Oliver could see that she'd been crying. He moved closer towards her. He didn't say anything back. Now he was staring straight at her. Their heads moved closer together.

"I'm losing my grip," Jac murmured suddenly.

"What do you mean?" Oliver replied. They were inches away from each other now.

"I'm making mistakes, dubious calls...Meyer's looking for any excuse to get rid of me."

"You're Jac Naylor," Oliver told her firmly. "If anyone can give Anton Meyer a run for his money it's you. If he wants to get rid of you, then he's not prepared for the fight." Jac smiled despite of herself. Their stares lingered for a little while longer until they could no longer fight it and their lips locked together. Jac could feel Oliver's hand on her back, rubbing gently. She felt comforted, wanted and above all she no longer felt alone.

**TO BE CONTINUED **


	9. Chapter 9

**PART NINE**

Jac turned over to gaze at Oliver who lay beside her fast asleep, his dark hair swept across his face. She smiled gently. He looked at peace, his chest rising up and down in a gentle rhythm as he breathed. Jac spun her head round to look at the alarm clock on the table. _7:30..._Jac sighed. She was on-call at 8. She thought Oliver might be as well but she didn't want them to be seen arriving at the hospital together. Jac could do without that bit of gossip spreading along the grapevines! She climbed out of bed letting the silken covers fall from her elegant body. She was completely naked from head to foot and as she stood up to find her clothes she felt completely and utterly comfortable with herself. Nothing could touch her or hurt her again. She shook her head, letting her soft red hair flow down over her shoulders and out of her eyes. It glistened in the early morning sunlight that shone through the cracks between the curtains.

"Nice arse," came a voice from behind her, chuckling cheekily. She turned around to see that Oliver had woken and was now yawning happily. He wolf-whistled.

"Grow up Valentine, you're not five years old any more," Jac said although she couldn't stop the grin forming on her face. It had been ages since she'd felt like this. "Are you ready for today?" Jac asked as she pulled on a cream-coloured frilly shirt over her bra. Oliver stretched, his bones clicking slightly.

"What time is she booked in to theatre?" Jac paused, thinking fast.

"3:30. You'd better be there on time Valentine. I won't cover for you," she replied sternly.

"I'll be there. I wouldn't miss this for the world," Oliver said, his lips curling into a flirtatious grin.

"I see. Yes, I'll be there. Thank you. Goodbye," Hanssen placed the phone back down. There was sharp knock at the door. Hanssen ignored it, busying himself with watering the many plants in his office. The knocker rapped their knuckles against the wood a second time. Hanssen placed the miniature watering can back into one of his desk drawers and sat back down. "Enter." The door opened and Anton Meyer strode inside. "Ah, Anton, I was expecting you," Hanssen said softly. He peered at Meyer through his dark spectacles. "Do please take a seat," he continued gesturing Meyer towards one of the seats in front of his desk.

"Thank you," Meyer replied stiffly. He had aged a great deal since his departure from Holby City General over ten years previously. He was still as sharp as he had always been and his surgical skill was surpassed by none but the years had taken their toll upon his features and his hair was completely grey. Hanssen surveyed him with interest. It had been down to him that Meyer had agreed to return to Holby for a short period, subject of course to a special fee. Hanssen had first met Meyer five years ago at a charity dinner and the pair had instantly clicked. Although he himself was not a cardiac surgeon he appreciated Meyer's intense aptitude for that particular area of surgery and was fascinated by the stories he regaled. Hanssen poured Meyer a glass of water. Meyer nodded in gratitude as he took the class and drank from it. Hanssen couldn't help noticing that his hand shook ever so slightly as he did.

"So, Ms. Naylor. Your opinion?" Hanssen decided to press on with the meeting.

"She seems arrogant, opinionated, defensive," Meyer said softly. "She dislikes the idea of anyone being more skilled than herself and I have no doubt she'd stop at nothing to further her career."

"Everyone knows about the Byrne fiasco," Hanssen murmured.

"Quite," said Meyer. "I have no doubts over her surgical prowess although I must express a concern over her willingness to take risks."

"She's too risky you think?" Hanssen pressed.

"I think she needs to be reigned in," Meyer said, taking another swig of water. Hanssen could see a very deliberate shake in his hand but he dismissed it from his mind. Meyer finished the drink and placed the empty glass back on the desk in front. He stood up. "Thank you for your time Henrik," Meyer said shaking Hanssen's hand firmly. He turned and left the office.

"How are you feeling today Mrs. Waterman?" Oliver asked.

"Fine thank you," Mrs. Waterman replied. Oliver checked her over and scribbled down on her notes.

"Any pains at all?" She shook her head. "Good." Oliver took a BP reading from her. "All seems relatively normal," he said quietly. Mrs. Waterman smiled faintly. "Are you ready for the transplant this afternoon?" he inquired soothingly.

"As ready as I can ever hope to be," she replied determinedly.

"You do understand what the procedure entails?" Oliver checked, making sure he covered all the bases. Mrs. Waterman nodded. "Excellent. Ms. Naylor will be along to check you over later." Oliver smiled encouragingly at her before departing on to his next duty.

Meyer sat alone in the consultants office. He held his right hand up level with his eyes and watched as it shook although he wasn't holding anything. His heart raced and pounded against his chest. He tried to put it from his mind but he couldn't stop thinking about that shake. He was sure, too, that Henrik had noticed it. Perhaps it was a sign that his illustrious career was approaching its natural end. No, he told himself. This was not the end. It was only a small shake, not enough to impede his skill, perhaps just enough to knock him down a peg or two. He wasn't putting anyone at risk by continuing to operate. He dismissed that unpleasant thought from his mind. His chest heaved anxiously.

Jac Naylor took a great gulp of coffee and relaxed her body as the warm liquid flowed inside her. She felt revitalised. Coffee after all was a surgeon's diesel. It was lunchtime. The transplant operation was now less than three hours away. Jac felt nervous. She knew she was being watched, that Hanssen had his beady eyes on her and she could not afford to mess up. They were looking for any excuse to turf her out, Jac thought. She stared out of the open window, feeling the sun upon her face. It illuminated her features making Jac appear more beautiful than she had ever done before. She appreciated its warmth as the time ticked ever on, drawing her closer to her fate...

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	10. Chapter 10

**PART TEN**

"You all right?" Jac looked across at Oliver whilst they both washed their hand thoroughly. She nodded silently. In a few minutes they would be striding into the theatre, ready to perform the heart transplant operation of their careers. She could hear the ticking of the clock becoming louder and louder inside her head. Her skull ached as the sound reverberated around her. "Jac?" She could hear Oliver's voice calling to her softly, so softly that she barely registered it. "Jac?" Oliver raised his voice causing Jac to be pulled abruptly out of her daze. "Are you sure you're up to this?" Jac looked down at her hands, she had been holding them under the tap without even feeling the water cascade over them. She blinked gingerly.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Jac said uncertainly. Oliver raised his eyebrow but did not pursue the matter.

Anton Meyer took hold of the scalpel and began to make a small incision. He felt anxious and his brow was sweating profusely. A nurse stepped forward to wipe it but seconds later it was dripping again. Meyer felt hot as though the air conditioning in theatre had broken down but he kept working, willing his hands not to shake. All eyes were on him as he performed the operation. If something went wrong he was not just letting himself down he was letting down everyone in this room, everyone who had been told of his eminence...the pressure was becoming intolerable. Anton Meyer did not feel like Anton Meyer any more. He was a fraud, pretending to be something he was not. Feigning a talent he had let go. So far he hadn't cracked however, the operation was going to be a success...just a few more minutes and it would all be over with no one any the wiser.

"I think we can close up now," Meyer said triumphantly. It was here that everything started to go wrong. Just as they began to close up the monitors began to sound distressed.

"BP's dropping." Meyer ceased closing up immediately and set about searching for the source of this setback. He squinted at his handiwork. It was filling up with blood. So much blood.

"Suction please," Meyer called, trying desperately to keep his composure. It was no good; as soon as the blood was suctioned more flowed in to replace it.

"There's got to be a nick on one of the arteries or something!" Paul Rose, the anaesthetist declared impatiently. Meyer rounded on him.

"Are you accusing me of negligence?" His eyes flashed angrily.

"We don't have time to stand here bickering. Find the source of the bleed!" Rose was fuming, the patient was losing output and they were running out of time and options. There was something wrong with Meyer but he couldn't quite put his finger on it yet. He watched him intently.

"Can I get some more light please," Meyer demanded, he looked down at the patient again, searching through the illumination and at last he saw something. The tiniest of nicks that was causing the patient to bleed out. He began the repairs, unaware that Rose was watching his every move with eagle eyes. Rose saw Meyer's hand shake but chose to say nothing. He kept watching. At last Meyer stood back.

"BP rising," Rose said stoically. "I think we're out of the woods."

Jac and Oliver stood over Mrs. Waterman's chest in the operating theatre. Everything was in position. The new heart was ready.

"Everyone ready?" Jac asked. The theatre nodded back to her. "No cock-ups people, all our necks are on the line if we mess up," she continued. There was a murmur of agreement. Jac glanced over to Oliver. "Dr. Valentine, would you care to open up?" Oliver smiled. All eyes were on him.

"I'm telling you, his hand was shaking!" Rose was incandescent with rage as he launched a tirade at Hanssen.

"Is the patient okay?" Hanssen asked calmly.

"Yes, they're going to make a full recovery!" Rose snapped. "But that's beside the point. Anton Meyer is not fit to operate!"

"I see." Hanssen muttered. Rose looked at him incredulously. He couldn't believe Hanssen wasn't taking the matter seriously.

"How can you be so calm about this?"

"Practise," Hanssen replied matter-of-factly. Rose took a long deep breath to calm himself.

"Look, Mr. Hanssen, what are we going to do about this?"

"We? We are not going to do anything Dr. Rose. I will deal with this matter personally."

"Bu...?"

"Do I have your assurance that you will not breathe a word to anyone?" Hanssen interjected.

"I..."

"Your word!" Hanssen demanded. Reluctantly, Rose nodded. "Thank you. I trust you can see yourself out." Deflated, Rose exited the office.

Over in Darwin Theatre 1 the transplant was going smoothly. Oliver had managed to open the chest and exposed the mediastinum.

"Good work," Jac said, keeping a close eye on him. "Now gently open the pericardium..." She watched as Oliver performed admirably. "That's it." She looked up at Oliver's brow. "Nurse!" Oliver could feel the wipe of the towel across his forehead. "Okay, I'll take over from here," Jac announced. She smiled at Oliver. "You did well Valentine." Jac began to dissect the great vessels. "Okay let's get her on to bypass," Jac said as she concentrated on making sure nothing went wrong. So far so good.

"BP stable." Jac raised her concentration even higher as she prepared to transect the greater vessels and the appropriate portion of the left atrium. She lifted the failing heart out of Mrs. Waterman's chest.

"Kidney dish," Jac called. She placed the heart on the dish provided. "Oliver, would you care to place the new heart?" she asked. Oliver stepped forward. He took hold of the donor heart in his hands and inserted it on to the remaining left atrium. With guidance from Jac, he sutured the great vessels in place. Once this was done, Oliver stepped away from the patient. Before Jac could question this, he spoke.

"I think you should be the one to restart the heart." Jac didn't need telling twice.

"I saw your hands shake in theatre today," Rose said in a low whisper to Meyer. "What's going on?" Meyer fixed him with a calculating look.

"I suspect if you saw that then you know what's going on," he said in an equally low whisper. "I have suspected Parkinson's," he muttered irritably.

"Are you sure?"

"Not completely." Without another word, Meyer walked away, leaving Rose to process the information.

"Well done in there Valentine," Jac praised Oliver warmly.

"It's as much down to you as it is to me," Oliver replied modestly.

"No, you should take the credit for this," Jac told him. Oliver gazed at her curiously.

"Sorry, did you see where Ms. Naylor went?"

"Ha. Ha. I'm not a complete dinosaur Valentine," Jac laughed. Her spirits felt lifted. The operation had been a success and just maybe her career wasn't on the line after all. Oliver leaned forwards and kissed her gently on the cheek. Jac took hold of his collar and pulled him into her. Their lips met and they began to kiss passionately. Oliver could feel Jac's hand under his shirt, reaching lower."

**TO BE CONTINUED **


	11. Chapter 11

**PART ELEVEN**

"We've had a look at your test results," Meyer was barely listening as the specialist spoke mechanically at him, "and I'm afraid it confirms the worst. You do have Parkinson's." Meyer raised an eyebrow, his features still mostly nonreactive and emotionless. "Is there anyone we can call for you, I know this must come as a shock?" Meyer fixed the specialist with a narrow look.

"Not at all Mr. Edwards, I'll be fine," Meyer said calmly. Mr. Edwards wasn't convinced but he respected Meyer's wishes nevertheless. He was a tall, skinny man with wispy grey hair and wore off-putting transition lens glasses. He wore a dark grey suit that was completely mismatched and frayed, but despite his dishevelled appearance, he was renowned for being the best in the field, what he didn't know about diseases such as Parkinson's, wasn't worth knowing at all. He watched intently as Meyer processed his diagnosis, checking for any of the usual signs. Those being the signs that a person wasn't coming to terms with the news or if they outright disagreed. Meyer appeared on the surface to be taking it very well, but Edwards knew all too well that those who looked the calmest were often the ones who coped the worst. He sighed, taking off his glasses to give them a quick polish.

"I'll prescribe you L-DOPAs," Mr. Edwards informed Meyer matter-of-factly, handing Meyer the prescription note who nodded appreciatively. "It of course, goes without saying that you no longer operate."

"Naturally," Meyer said through gritted teeth. Mr. Edwards shot him a stern smile.

"I know this is going to be a huge upheaval to your life but there is counselling available should you need it," he told Meyer encouragingly. Meyer gave a dry laugh.

"Feel free to call on me at any time of the day or night," Mr. Edwards continued.

"That's most kind of you," Meyer responded. He gave a quick nod of the head to Mr. Edwards and exited the room.

Jac Naylor came to a screeching halt on her new motorbike outside Wyvern Wing. She was now crutch-free and slowly but surely getting back to her old self. Jac had been longing to get back on a bike for weeks, to feel the weight of it between her legs. She clambered off the seat, her dark leathers glowing in the midday sun and pulled off the cumbersome helmet. Jac shook her long strands of hair out of her eyes and blinked furiously, adjusting herself to the brightness.

"Looking good Ms. Naylor," Oliver said with a whistle as he walked past her. Jac gave him a smirk but she felt pleased however. Taking the keys out of the ignition, Jac followed Oliver into the building.

At last the day of Mrs. Waterman's discharge had arrived. The anti-rejection drugs were working efficiently and it was now almost certain that the new heart would not be rejected. If all went well, she would be allowed to go home later that afternoon with regular check-ups needed for the next six months. Although she had been given a new lease of life, Mrs. Waterman felt morose and somber. Now that she was soon leaving hospital the reality of recent events was flooding to her. She still had to arrange a funeral for her late husband; there were so many things to be sorted out.

"Margaret?" her sister, Olivia had finally bothered to show up. Mrs. Waterman ignored her. Olivia persisted, "Margaret talk to me?" Her voice was grating, like fingernails down a blackboard.

"Finally managed to fit me in with your busy schedule," Mrs. Waterman scoffed, still determinedly avoiding eye contact.

"You know what it's like Margaret, I don't have to explain myself to you," Olivia retorted.

"Why are you here Olivia?" Mrs. Waterman cut straight to the point. Whenever Olivia decided to visit her it was never just because she wanted to see her sister.

"I'm not allowed to visit my dear younger sister?" Olivia replied, feigning a look of utmost hurt on her crow-like features. Mrs. Waterman knew it by heart.

"Don't give me those puppy dog eyes Olivia, you know I detest it. You don't care about me, you only come if you think you'll benefit." Olivia's eyes flashed scarlet with rage.

"You've always been jealous of my success Margaret!" she snapped bitterly.

"Jealous? Me? Of you? I knew you were loopy Olivia but you've positively lost your marbles now!" Mrs. Waterman snapped back, her eyes wide and incredulous. Olivia's temper got the better of her and she made to slap Margaret, her hand poised in mid-air just as Mary Claire appeared.

"What is going on here?" she demanded as Olivia lowered her hand sheepishly. "Your sister has just been through a very traumatic operation," Mary Claire told Olivia angrily. "You do not go around hitting people!" There was no response. "Do you want to tell me what this is all about?"

"She started it," Olivia said childishly.

"I don't care who started it," Mary Claire said exasperatedly. "All I care is that it doesn't happen again. Can you assure me you will behave civilly or do I have to ask you to leave?" There was a brief silence as Olivia calculated this in her mind. Finally she nodded.

"Did you get the results?" Hanssen asked Meyer concernedly. Meyer thought about this for a few moments before replying.

"Yes," he said simply. Hanssen gave him a look that clearly said: well? "All-clear," Meyer lied. He didn't know why he lied, it just came to him in that instance. Hanssen peered into his eyes and for a few moments it looked as if he would spot Meyer's lie but seconds later he looked away.

"That's excellent news," he said with a dry smile. "With Mr. Hope still on leave we would hate to lose you now."

"Thank you," Meyer said quietly. He felt disgusted by his lie but the cat was out of the bag now.

Jac examined Mrs. Waterman carefully whilst Olivia hopped around the bed like an irritating fly that you desperately wanted to swat.

"Would you please get out of the way," Jac demanded in exasperation as Olivia bounded into her for the fourth time. She mumbled an apology. "Everything is just as it should be," Jac told Mrs. Waterman who smiled in thanks.

"When are you going to let her home?" Olivia said abruptly. Jac scowled; she did not like being demanded by patient relatives.

"Later today hopefully. We just have to run a few more tests and then we'll see," she told Olivia. Olivia tutted. Jac ignored her and swept away, thankful to get away from the woman.

"Why do you have to be so rude?" Mrs. Waterman reprimanded her sister.

"I was merely asking," Olivia replied defiantly. She sighed. "Please let's not fight Maggie?" Mrs. Waterman considered this carefully.

"Okay."

"I heard about Peter. I'm really sorry," Olivia said and for once she meant it.

"Thank you."

"If there's anything I..."

"Thank you." Olivia took hold of her sister's hand and squeezed it gently. Although their differences were not solved, they would lay them aside for now. Over at the nurses station Jac and Oliver watched the two sisters engage in colourful conversation. Even Jac's hard exterior felt moved.

"Have you thought about what I said this morning?" Oliver asked. Jac turned away from Margaret and Olivia to gaze at him intently. She blinked, thinking...

**TO BE CONTINUED **


	12. Chapter 12

**PART TWELVE**

"Have you thought about what I said this morning?" Oliver's voice echoed as Jac turned to face him, her eyes blinking rapidly as she thought. "Jac, have you?" Oliver pressed. Jac did not answer. She simply stared straight through him, still thinking. Still considering...

_10 Hours Ago_

Jac's phone was ringing. She opened her eyes, yawning and rolled out of bed. Her phone continued to ring aggressively. She could just about make out the caller's name, Oliver, through the light of the phone's screen. Jac sighed. She reached out her arm and scooped up her mobile from where it lay, disregarded, on the floor.

"Yes?" Jac blurted out more aggressively than she had perhaps intended.

"Jac it's Oliver," came Oliver's nervous reply.

"I know. Funnily enough, your name appears on my phone when you call it," Jac said sarcastically back at him.

"Listen, this is important. Can I come round?"

"What, now?" Jac asked exasperatedly.

"Yeah..." Oliver sounded desperate about something but Jac couldn't think what. She sighed, not knowing what to do. "Jac?"

"Okay, this better be good Oliver," Jac answered finally. There was a click and Oliver hung up. Jac placed her mobile on the bedside table and set about getting ready for the day ahead. She was due on shift in a couple of hours and now she had to deal with whatever was vexing Oliver. She marched over to the window and withdrew the curtains, letting bright sunshine flood the room. For a few minutes Jac simply stood there staring out of the window, lost in her thoughts, feeling the warmth of the day through it. Her mobile began to ring again. Jac rotated her head just slightly so she could see who the caller was. To Jac's annoyance it was an unknown number. It was still ringing. In a split-second Jac made the decision to answer it. "Hello?"

"Jac?" came the reply. Whoever it was, they obviously knew who she was.

"Jac Naylor, cardiothoracic consultant Holby City, how can I help?" Jac answered in her most businesslike manner. There was silence. "Who is this?" Jac called in to the phone frustratedly.

"We're pleased to announce that you have won our hourly prize..." the voice on the other end dissolved into tears of laughter and Jac at last recognised the culprit. She couldn't believe she'd nearly been had by that joker.

"Sacha!" Jac yelled furiously. On the other end of the call, Jac could have sworn she heard Sacha recoil away. "What are you doing?"

"It was Chantelle's idea," Sacha said quickly.

"It was not!" came Chantelle's outraged voice.

"Ok, ok, it was my idea. Just having a laugh Jac," Sacha said trying to keep the laughter out of his voice.

"Get back to work Sacha," Jac retorted, cracking a little smile. Levy irritated her to her wit's end yet she couldn't help feeling particularly fond of the jolly doctor. At times he had been her only friend in that hospital. "I'll see you in a couple hours," Jac continued. She hung up.

The doorbell sounded. Jac pulled open the door to reveal a dishevelled appearing Oliver, looking as if he had run all the way there. He panted heavily.

"You look bloody awful," Jac told him sweetly.

"I know," Oliver panted. "Can I come in?"

"Unless you want to stand outside here all day," Jac told him. She beckoned him inside. Oliver looked left and right before entering. He was checking for something. There was something particularly weird about his behaviour, Jac thought. They headed into the kitchen where Oliver leant against the sideboard, tapping his fingers absentmindedly on them.

"I'm sorry to intrude but I couldn't just say this over the phone," Oliver said at last. He was still tapping his fingers in a 2:3 rhythm.

"Are you all right Oliver?" Jac asked him, genuinely concerned.

"Fine, fine," Oliver replied splutteringly.

"You seem a little on edge," Jac said sharply. Oliver let out a nervous laugh.

"I need your help." Jac's eyes narrowed. She glanced directly at Oliver.

"What sort of help?"

"It's my father," Oliver went on. "He turned up at my flat this morning..." Oliver gulped. "Jac, they really hurt him..."

"Who? Who hurt him?" Jac asked urgently, Oliver wasn't making much sense.

"I don't know!" Oliver shouted, his eyes bloodshot. He took a deep breath. "Sorry. I just don't know what happened, he turned up out of the blue, there was blood everywhere..."

"Why didn't you call an ambulance?" Jac said, thinking that this would have been the logical thing to have done.

"He wouldn't let me, he made me promise," Oliver replied helplessly. "Jac, you're the only one I can trust." Jac stared into his eyes and she could see how helpless he looked. "Please, Jac?"

"Okay." Jac felt her heart skip a beat as she said this. Oliver threw his arms around her. Jac patted him awkwardly on the back. The whole situation was just peculiar she thought.

Jac and Oliver arrived outside his flat on her motorbike. The bike's engine flickered and died as the pair climbed off. They walked up to the building, Jac carrying a medical bag and Oliver leading the way. He placed his key in the door and unlocked it. They stepped inside. Everywhere was dark. Jac took care not to trod on anything as Oliver led her to the kitchen. She took hold of his hand and could feel it shaking with his nerves. The silence was eery. Jac could hear her heart thumping. _What the hell was going on? _Jac thought desperately. Oliver let go of her hand suddenly and pushed open the door to the kitchen. They stepped inside. Immediately Jac could see a crumpled figure lying spreadeagled on the floor, propped up by cushions. As she approached closer, she saw the cushions were soaked with damp blood. The man's face was bruised and bloody, both his eyes swollen with severe cuts. Jac could also see a large gash down his left cheek as though someone had attacked him with a Stanley knife.

"Mr. Valentine?" Jac asked, although she didn't expect a reply. The man was barely alive. Jac bent down to feel his ribs, half were broken the other half severely cracked. He was still breathing but it was ragged and intermittent. She turned to Oliver. "We need to get him to hospital!"

"I told you, no hospitals. You've got to help him here!" Oliver told her forcefully. "Please," he added. Jac nodded.

"Oliver, I'm on shift in half an hour," she informed him.

"So am I," Oliver responded.

"I'll do what I can now. At least make him more comfortable," Jac offered. "He should be stable until I finish my shift." Oliver nodded nervously.

"Promise me you won't tell anyone?" Jac stared at him incredulously. "Please Jac, promise me?"

"I'll think about it."

_Present _

Jac continued to stare at Oliver. He was clearly not coping very well but she had to give him credit for keeping up the pretence. To everyone but her, Oliver was his usual happy-go-lucky self. As she stared she thought about the good times they had shared together, how he made her feel and how he had been there for her when no one else had. In that instance, Jac knew what she had to do.

"I promise," she said, the words reverberating around them like lightning in a thunderstorm.

**TO BE CONTINUED **


	13. Chapter 13

**PART THIRTEEN**

Anton Meyer peered closely into the patient's chest cavity. The bright theatre lights shone over him causing the eminent cardiac surgeon to sweat profusely. He worked incredibly slowly, deliberately so that no one noticed the worsening shake in his hands. He still didn't know why he'd lied to Hanssen. His brain over-thought desperately as the operation continued. There was no one but him to blame for this mess he was in.

"Anton is everything okay?" Meyer glanced up at the voice. He looked back down at his hands and saw that he had been absentmindedly gripping them together without actually doing anything to the patient. He unclasped them.

"I'm fine thank you. A momentary loss of focus that is all," Meyer said unflinchingly. "Shall we get on?" He added. The group clustered around him all nodded eagerly. Meyer cleared his throat and closed his eyes in deep concentration. Taking a deep breath, he opened them again and recommenced the operation. Forty-five minutes later Meyer emerged from theatre and lent against the wall breathing heavily. He had been deeply lucky; despite the shake he had managed to perform such a delicate operation but he couldn't be sure that his luck would hold out forever. He couldn't be so foolhardy as to presume he could carry on much longer, could he? Meyer's mind was awash with thoughts.

"Yes, I'm well aware of that Mr. Hope. Yes. Yes. I couldn't agree more Mr. Hope. No of course not. I see," Henrik Hanssen was speaking monotonously in to his mobile, the voice of Elliot Hope just about audible on the other end.

"It's been a difficult couple of weeks," Elliot's voice said solemnly.

"I'm sure it has, you have my sympathy," Hanssen replied passionlessly. "The Board would like to know when you'll be able to return to work?"

"Ah," came Elliot's reply in the tone of voice that suggested a 'but' was on its way. "That was what I wanted to talk to you about. I hoped to come back tomorrow but I'm afraid that's now impossible..."

"Why is that?" Hanssen asked, his voice dangerously soft.

"James' condition is worsening. Martha's away travelling. I really must be with him," Elliot explained, a note of agitation in his usually calm demeanour.

"I see," Hanssen muttered.

"I'm sorry Mr. Hanssen but my priority has to be to my son. I'm sure you understand," Elliot said. He hung up. Hanssen sat at his desk still clutching the mobile to his ear. He moved his hand down and let the phone fall with a faint clatter on to the wooden top.

"No. I don't understand," he said quietly. Hanssen was shaken from his thoughts by a sharp knock at the door. "Enter!" he called. The door clicked open. "Ah, Anton. Please come in," Hanssen said with a genuine smile, beckoning Meyer. Meyer approached the desk cautiously, his hands tucked uncharacteristically into his pockets.

"Henrik I need to speak to you about an urgent matter," Meyer informed him. Hanssen checked his watch.

"Well, I'm due in theatre in five minutes..." Hanssen said his voice trailing off as Meyer glared at him.

"This is important Henrik," Meyer said irritably. Hanssen remained calm.

"Can we discuss this later? After the shift?" Meyer considered this proposal delicately. He could feel his hands shaking inside his pockets and this disturbed him a great deal. Eventually Meyer nodded his head in agreement.

"After the shift," he said.

"I shall be in my office," Hanssen replied. Meyer walked away.

Olivia and Margaret stood on Darwin ward waiting. Mrs. Waterman had been officially discharged earlier and they were just waiting for the postoperative prescription she would need to make sure that the heart wasn't rejected in the coming months. Olivia leaned against a pillar impatiently.

"Honestly no sense of timing in this place whatsoever," she grumbled.

"They're exceptionally busy Olivia. Cut them some slack," her sister replied.

"But, don't they understand some of us are busy too?" Olivia protested.

"Of course they do. In any case Olivia, you aren't busy!"

"Not right now no," Olivia was preparing to launch herself into a full-scale onslaught.

"Olivia!" Mrs. Waterman cut her sister of abruptly as Jac Naylor approached them. Jac smiled warmly. She handed Mrs. Waterman a small paper bag.

"Follow the instructions to the letter," Jac told her simply.

"Thank you Ms. Naylor. For everything," Margaret said with a small tear in her eye. Jac was touched.

"It's just my job," she said.

"You went out of your way to make sure I got a new heart. You did more for me than anyone has ever done. You and that young Dr. Valentine. Thank him for me won't you?"

"Of course." Margaret gave Jac a brief hug. They broke away and with one final goodbye, Olivia and Margaret left the ward. Jac watched them disappear in to the distance.

The end of the long shift had finally arrived. Meyer waited outside Hanssen's office for the director of surgery to return. The rest of his shift had gone without a hitch, some would say it had been a miracle. Not Meyer. He didn't believe in miracles. Well, not usually. He tapped his knuckles against the doorframe. There was still no sign of Hanssen. Meyer was beginning to feel impatient. He didn't have all night.

"Sorry I'm late," came Hanssen's voice from behind him.

"Out the way now!" The trolley came careering through the double doors into AAU. The voice belonged to Luc Hemingway. Everyone jumped to attention, no one aware of what was happening. Michael Spence watched the commotion from his office. The trolley was wheeled past him and he caught a glimpse of the occupant. He couldn't believe his eyes. Shocked, Michael opened the door and marched out on to the ward floor.

"Elliot?" Luc turned to Michael.

"He's in a bad way." Michael looked down at Elliot lying semiconscious on the trolley.

"What happened?" Michael demanded.

"We don't know," said Eddi. They rolled Elliot on to the bed. He was losing stability rapidly.

"Blood pressure's falling. Elliot what have you done to yourself?" Michael said, his voice panicky.

"We've lost output!" Luc shouted.

"Henrik, what I'm about to tell you is the truth. It will come as a shock..." Meyer's explanation was interrupted suddenly by the sound of Hanssen's mobile ringing furiously.

"Hanssen. I see. Thank you very much." Hanssen put the phone down. "Sorry Anton, we'll have to do this another time, an urgent case has arisen on AAU."

"Not at all Henrik. Not at all," Meyer said, his voice hiding his disappointment, but he knew that a medical emergency was far more important. "May I ask what's happened?"

"It's Mr. Hope..."

"Come on Elliot! Don't do this!" Michael was performing chest compressions on Elliot. James Hope stood to the side of the bed, his eyes bloodshot, wringing his hands through his matted hair.

"What's happening!" He shouted. Eddi placed her arm around his shoulder and led him out of the way.

"Come on!" Michael yelled again.

"We're going to have to shock him," Luc interjected. Michael stepped away from Elliot. He looked over to the defibrillator. Elliot was still in cardiac arrest. It was now or never.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	14. Chapter 14

**PART FOURTEEN**

Elliot Hope was inches from death. His heartbeat irregular and his breathing erratic. Luc and Michael had managed to shock him out of asystole but he wasn't out of the woods yet. Far from it. As Michael examined the legendary consultant, it became clear to him that Elliot was going to need a serious operation to remove the blood clot in his heart. It was a risky enough procedure without taking Elliot's age and physique in to the equation. But Michael wasn't going to give up on him. He would fight for this man's life until the bitter end. Elliot coughed suddenly.

"Elliot?" Michael asked quickly.

"I gave you all a bit of scare didn't I?" Elliot replied with a noticeable break in his voice. He coughed again.

"What happened?" Michael inquired.

"I don't know," Elliot said with a heavy sigh. "I remember talking to James..."

_Earlier that day_

"Your temperature's still sky high James, I really think you ought to go to hospital," Elliot murmured affectionately to his son. James moaned in response, his head was pounding and he felt like constantly throwing up but every time he retched nothing came out. Elliot knelt down beside his son's bed and examined him. James let out a whimper of pain.

"Dad..." He muttered softly.

"James?" Elliot said quickly.

"I have to tell you something," James retched again. "It's important."

"It can wait, you need to rest," Elliot told his son concernedly.

"No!" James shouted. "I have to tell you now, please dad." Elliot looked taken aback but he nodded silently to his son. "Please don't be mad," James began, Elliot looked apprehensive. "I know why I'm ill," he paused, his mind racing. "I've been using again..." Elliot's face flashed scarlet with rage.

"How could you be so stupid?" Elliot exploded. "After all the chances we've given you!" James was trembling, he had never seen his father look so apoplectic with anger before. "This is the last straw James! Once you're better I want you to pack up your things and get out. Get out of my house!" As Elliot turned away he did not see James' trembling fingers enclose around a wooden ornament that lay on the bedside table. He failed to spot his son raise the ornament high in the air and bring it crashing down upon his father's head. Elliot crumpled to the floor. James looked on in horror. His hand went limp and he dropped the bloodstained ornament to the floor. The crash echoed around the room.

"What have I done?"

_Present _

Michael looked at James with disgust in his eyes. James was covering his face with his hands, crying silently. Michael turned away from him to focus back on Elliot.

"There's only one good thing to come out of this Elliot," Michael said solemnly. Elliot fixed him with a befuddled stare.

"What's that?"

"If you hadn't been brought into hospital, that blood clot could have gone unnoticed, and then where would we be?" Michael informed him.

"Ah," said Elliot.

"As much as it pains me to say, James has kind of done you a favour," Michael said agitatedly. He scowled at James.

Tony Valentine was awake. He was sweating with the tremendous pain but he was at last awake. Oliver was by his side dabbing his forehead with a wet towel. Jac checked Tony's blood pressure, for the first time it was approaching a normal level. They might just be able to get away with this, Jac thought. She still thought he'd be better of in hospital but she had made a promise to Oliver and she wasn't about to let him down.

"Oliver?" Tony said uncertainly.

"Yes, dad?" Oliver responded like lightning.

"I'm sorry," Tony continued.

"What for?" Oliver asked.

"For bringing this on to you. It all got out of hand," Tony tried to explain in between the bouts of agonising pain. "I bit off more than I could chew."

"What are you trying to say?" Oliver said, a look of worry etched across his face. Jac shot him a puzzled expression. She turned to leave, sensing this was a private family matter but Oliver grabbed her wrist, urging her to stay.

"The money's all gone Oliver," Tony explained.

"What do you mean?" Oliver interjected.

"I gambled it. I borrowed money and couldn't pay it back," Tony said, his eyes full of shame.

"How much did you borrow?" Oliver said and as he looked at his father he felt nothing but righteous anger. Tony could sense his son's fury.

"Thousands. You're right to be angry Oliver. I don't blame you," Tony said softly. "I didn't make the first repayment so they did this to me," he indicated the array of bruises and battering that layered his body. Oliver did not reply. He stood up and walked out of the room without looking back at his father. Jac made sure Tony was stable before she followed Oliver.

Hanssen managed to corner Meyer before he exited the building. As Hanssen called after him, Meyer turned around nervously.

"What was it you wanted to say to me?" Hanssen asked. Meyer thought about this. It was make or break time. His hands gripped together tightly.

"I lied to you Henrik," Meyer said after a deep breath. Hanssen looked at him with his eyebrows arched.

"I see," Hanssen said although it was a softer tone of voice than he would have used with others.

"I've been diagnosed with Parkinson's," Meyer felt a wave of relief rush over him as he finally admitted the truth. Hanssen's face whitened.

"Go home Anton. We'll talk about this tomorrow." Meyer didn't argue, he turned away from Hanssen and walked away.

"What am I going to do?" Oliver asked Jac. They were lying beside each other in Oliver's bed. Jac had her arms around his waist. "If he doesn't pay them back they'll hurt him again and I don't have the money to bail him out."

"We'll find a way," Jac told him. She lent forward and kissed him.

**TO BE CONTINUED **


	15. Chapter 15

**PART FIFTEEN**

Oliver was running. He ran so fast, never looking back, the rain glancing off his cheeks as he careered around corner after corner. When he had set off that morning there had been bright sunshine illuminating the city of Holby, now there was a deluge of rain splattering the pavement and the sun had been obscured by great swathes of black clouds. Oliver was soaked through. None of that mattered though as he kept on running as if he were attempting to escape from the mess his father had dragged him into. His mind was racing; so many thoughts were sifting through, so many decisions to make and he still didn't know what on earth he was going to do. Oliver was breathless but he continued running, his trainers splashing the rainwater over his ankles. He stared behind him for a brief second and thought he saw - no it couldn't have been. Oliver tried to shake the thought out of his head and refocussed upon his running but even as he did so, he couldn't rid himself of a nagging feeling, a suspicion that he was being followed.

"I'm being paranoid," Oliver muttered to himself breathlessly. "I'm the only one mad enough to be out in this weather. There's nobody there Oliver. Stop looking behind you!" It was a few moments before Oliver realised he was about to collide headfirst into the bane of his life, a lamppost. He swerved abruptly inches away from collision, skidded violently on the sodden pavement and failing to steady himself, Oliver smashed knee-first into the concrete. He yelled out in pain. His eyes were watering as he looked down to check his knee. His trouser leg was ripped just above the kneecap and he could feel blood steadily trickling down. It didn't look too bad. Oliver took a few moments to regain his composure before rising unstably to his feet. He wiped his brow with a quick swipe of his right hand and, taking a deep breath, he began to run once more. Then he heard it. A footstep. Instantly, Oliver wheeled around but yet again there was nothing there. He was starting to feel irritated. Someone was following him, perhaps they were playing a practical joke, but now it was beyond that. He heard another footstep and quickly checked out of the corner of his eye. This time, Oliver managed to catch out a brief silhouette before it predictably vanished from view. His brain told him he knew that outline but Oliver couldn't place it, there were too many other thoughts clogging up his mind to focus properly. He could hear the last words his father had said to him before he had set out on his epic run that morning ringing in his head.

"I'm sorry Oliver. I'm sorry Oliver. I'm sorry Oliver." Over and over and over again, Oliver could hear his father speak and see the desperate look in his eyes. Then he could hear his reply and every time he wished with every fibre of his being that he could take those words back.

"I wish you were dead." Oliver's heart was racing. He hadn't meant that, he told himself. Of course he didn't wish his father dead, but then another thought crossed his mind. A different feeling. Everything would be better if his father was dead. Immediately Oliver felt sick at himself. It wasn't so long since he had lost Penny and here he was wishing their father dead also. He didn't like what he was turning into. This was not who he wanted to be. Yet still Oliver couldn't help wondering if without his family he'd be able to take control of his own life and be the man he wanted to be. He wouldn't be in this mess that was for sure. Right at that moment Oliver hated his father. He hated the fact that he'd got himself into such a mess. He hated that he'd brought it on himself and above all Oliver hated that his father had dragged him into the situation as well by turning up on his doorstep. Before that fateful night, everything had finally been going Oliver's way. He had found his feet as a doctor and he had found Jac. Someone in whom he could confide and share a connection. And then, his father had arrived and everything was once again thrust upon its head. Oliver sighed. The rain was beginning to subside. He carried on running a little farther until he spotted a bench he could rest on. Oliver sat down on the damp wood, his chest heaving as he breathed rapidly. He stared up at the sky watching the rainclouds dissipate and the brilliant blue sky fight its way back out. The sun emerged from behind a cloud and Oliver could feel the warmth upon his sodden clothing. He was gladdened by it as it gave him the chance to clear his mind and properly think.

"There you are." Oliver looked down in the direction of the voice. His eyes met hers and Oliver smiled for the first time all morning. "I've been trying to find you," Jac told him. "Why don't you answer your phone?" Oliver reached into his pocket and drew out his phone. There were six missed calls.

"Sorry. I just needed to be by myself," Oliver explained. Jac understood. She frequently needed to be by herself because when you were on your own there was no one to tell you what to do, no one to interfere or mess with your feelings. But, now Jac had to grit her teeth and tell Oliver what she had set out for.

"Oliver..." She began tentatively. Oliver stared at her and in her eyes he could tell that something was wrong. Something had happened. He racked his brain trying to second guess Jac. "It's about your father," Jac went on. Oliver's worst fears were rapidly coming true. He didn't need to hear what Jac said next, somehow he already knew. Somehow. He couldn't explain it but Oliver knew he had felt something at the moment it had happened, a feeling as if a light had been switched off. "He's dead."

**TO BE CONTINUED **


	16. Chapter 16

**PART SIXTEEN**

Rain poured mercilessly as Jac Naylor and Oliver Valentine stood outside the church waiting for the last of the stragglers to arrive. It was a dark and gloomy Thursday on which Tony Valentine's funeral was occurring and so far everything that could go wrong, had. Half of the people invited had so far got lost on the way to the church and Oliver had spent much of the morning directing them unhappily down the phone.

"Is that everyone?" Jac asked as Oliver's bedraggled looking grandmother clambered frailly through the open thick oak doors of the church. Oliver took a quick look inside.

"There's still a couple more to arrive," he told Jac with a heavy sigh. Jac glanced at the time on her phone.

"If they don't get here soon, we'll have to start," she said warningly. Oliver nodded.

"Listen, why don't you go inside? I'll be fine out here." Jac raised her eyebrows at this. She did not think Oliver should be left on his own for too long and indeed she had kept a close eye on him since his father had died. Oliver was unpredictable at times and Jac worried how much his father's death would have affected him. Fortunately, Jac was spared making the decision as moments later, the last guest arrived and the three of them headed inside.

The church was huge and echoey. The slightest whisper reverberated all around the hallowed walls as the mourners all took their seats in the pews. The Vicar took her position and prepared to address them all, resplendent in the uniform of her profession. She was a sprightly woman in her early sixties with gleaming silver hair and immaculate teeth. She cleared her throat.

"Good morning and welcome to St. Mary's Church. Firstly, I must say what a pleasure it is to see so many of you here to mark this sad occasion. Secondly, the service will last approximately half an hour and there will be a procession to the cemetery afterwards for all family and close friends only. The rest of you are all invited back to Mr. Valentine's home for refreshments." She cleared her throat again. "We shall begin with the first hymn on your order of service sheets." Everyone got to their feet, each clutching an order of service or sharing a copy with the person next to them. The organist began to play the dulcet tune of the hymn and dutifully they all sang their hearts out. It did not matter that most were out of tune, nor did it matter that most were also unaware of the true meaning of the hymn. What mattered was that they were all there, singing to commemorate the life of Oliver's father. Three minutes later the hymn came to a conclusion and the mourners resumed their seats upon the pews. Oliver remained standing and was preparing to walk over to the pulpit. Jac took hold of his hand and squeezed it, whispering in his ear.

"You'll be fine." Oliver smiled at her and felt instantly more relaxed. He took his position.

"First, I want to thank all of you for coming. Especially my work colleagues and friends. It means a lot guys, it really does. I know many of you did not know Tony, my father but I'm sure he would have been thrilled at the turnout today, so thank you all once again. I won't say that my relationship with my father was always good, we had our ups and downs as I'm sure many of you have had with your parents. But we respected each other and that was really counted. We didn't share many hobbies or interests but we were always there for each other. My father was a reclusive man and intolerant of other peoples ignorance..." As Oliver spoke the mourners listened intently, watching him closely as every word came tumbling out of his mouth. After several minutes Oliver stopped speaking and stood in silence. Following his lead, the mourners bowed their heads and for a minute there was not a sound in the church. Oliver lifted his head. "Thank you," he said before returning to his seat next to Jac.

"Please stand for the next hymn," the Vicar announced and once again they all climbed to their feet and began to sing. Harmonious was not a word to describe it.

Oliver and Jac stood alone by the tombstone. Everyone had long since departed for the refreshments but Oliver had wanted to stay for a little while longer. Jac had remained with him. They stood in silence watching the crows gathering on the trees around the cemetery. Oliver started to shiver.

"Come on Oliver, let's go," Jac told him firmly, placing her coat around him. Oliver looked at her with mournful eyes and shook his head.

"It doesn't just go away you know," he said solemnly. Jac stared at him quizzically.

"What doesn't?" Oliver took hold of her hand and held it to his chest.

"The mess he dragged me into. Just because he's dead doesn't mean the debt gets wiped clean." Jac nodded.

"We'll find a way." Oliver smiled gratefully but inside he was not so certain. He returned Jac's coat and with a deep breath he said,

"Go to the wake, I'll join you in ten minutes. Please, I want to be on my own." Jac wrestled with her own misgivings and out of respect for Oliver she agreed. They hugged tightly before Jac let go and with one last look at Oliver, she disappeared from view. Oliver turned back to his father's grave. He sighed. "Well, father there you have it. This is your legacy. I hope it was worth it." A tear slid down Oliver's cheek. "I'll miss you dad." Oliver stepped away from the tombstone and immediately felt a sharp hand clutching his shoulder. He wheeled around, shocked, and was met with a fist to the face knocking him unconscious. Oliver hit the wet muddy ground with a squelching thump. The mystery assailant clicked his fingers and two others appeared. They lifted Oliver's limp body out of the mud and strode out of sight. The assailant wiped his knuckles along a blade of grass and followed them. Their car was parked outside the cemetery gates, the windows tinted and the boot open. The men carrying Oliver, bungled him into the boot and slammed it shut. The three villains gave each other curt nods before they too, got inside the car. The engine hummed to life and it drove off into the distance, away from Holby.

**TO BE CONTINUED **


	17. Chapter 17

**PART SEVENTEEN**

The engine hummed softly as the car drove off into the night. Oliver awoke with a start. He was curled up in the small boot of the car, barely able to breathe and completely unable to move freely. It was cramped, cold and dark. Oliver shivered. His head was throbbing from where he had been struck. Oliver's mind teemed with dark thoughts and fears. Where were they taking him? What would they do to him? Oliver rolled over onto his side and attempted to reach into his pocket for his phone. As his fingers closed around it, he gave a small yelp of pain and as he drew them back a tiny speck of blood dripped on to his face. The screen was smashed to pieces and his phone worse than useless. Oliver sighed.

Jac Naylor was worried. There was still no sign of Oliver. He hadn't turned up for the wake and he still wasn't home. She tried his number again.

"Hi, you've reached Oliver Valentine. Sorry I'm not in at the moment, please leave a message and I'll get back to you. Thanks." Jac let out a shriek of anger. She looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece. Oliver had been gone too long to just be 'out.' Something wasn't right. Jac couldn't think of what else to do. She scrolled through the address book on her phone until she found his number and pressed dial.

"Jac?" Michael's voice answered in its delightful dulcet tones. "What do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"Shut up Michael, I need you to listen," Jac said exasperatedly. Michael laughed gleefully.

"I like it when you get all bossy Naylor," Michael giggled. Jac didn't have time for this.

"Oliver's missing!" She shouted across him. Michael stopped laughing immediately.

"What do you mean, missing?" He asked concernedly.

"I mean he's disappeared. Vanished. Not here!" Jac yelled sarcastically.

"I know what missing means, I just meant how do you know?"

"He hasn't been seen since the funeral Michael. He didn't turn up to the wake." Jac heard Michael sigh on the other end.

"Have you tried getting hold of him?"

"No, that never even occurred to me."

"Really?"

"No. His phone's dead, just goes straight to voicemail."

"Hold on, I'll be right over. Where are you?"

"Oliver's flat." There was a click and Michael hung up. Jac stood by the mantelpiece. Her mind was racing. What if something terrible had happened to Oliver and he was lying in a ditch somewhere?

Anton Meyer sat alone in the single armchair by the fireside. Wagner's Ring Cycle was blasting from the Hi-Fi as he held his hands up to eye level and watched intently. They were shaking uncontrollably. The fire crackled and spat. Meyer's lips curled downward. His usually calm demeanour was gone as the rage bubbled and frothed inside him. Unexpectedly timed with a crescendo in the music, Meyer picked up the glass next to him and threw it at the wall where it shattered instantly. The shards of glass fell to the floor in a heap. Meyer got to his feet and before he knew what he was doing, he had walked over to the broken glass and was holding a particularly sharp shard to his neck. He came to his senses abruptly. The shard fell from his shaking hands. He was breathing erratically. His whole life was falling away. He had already lost the love of his life, cardiac surgery. What else was there for him? His life was over. All he lived for was taken from him. Now he was just going to grow old, wither and fade away. His brilliance would be forgotten. In years to come, no one would talk of him as a pioneer in cardiothoracic surgery. They would remember only how his career was cut short and how he tried to keep going even though he knew it was all over.

Oliver felt himself thrown into the side of the boot with a painful jolt through his body as the car came to a screeching halt. Where they were, he had no idea and frankly, he didn't care. All Oliver cared about was how he would get himself out of this. The boot lid opened with a gentle whir.

"Get out," said a gruff voice. Oliver didn't move. "I said get out!" Oliver felt two arms grab him roughly around the shoulders and yank him gracelessly from the boot. "Up!" the voice called again. Oliver clambered uncertainly to his feet. He swayed nervously and gazed from side to side in search of his attackers. Oliver still couldn't see them until he felt a hand on his shoulder forcing him to turn around. There they were. Three unsavoury looking men.

"What is this?" Oliver asked, frightened but trying not show it.

"You have a debt to pay," said the leader of the trio.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Oliver retorted. The man struck Oliver sharply across the face.

The doorbell rang sharply. Michael stood outside, waiting for Jac to answer.

"Jac, it's Michael," he called. The door opened slowly and Michael stepped inside.

"Michael, there's something I need to tell you. I think I know what may have happened to Oliver," Jac said with a heavy sigh.

"Enlighten me," Michael replied.

"His dad owed someone a lot of money before he died..." Jac didn't need to finish her sentence. Michael knew exactly what she was driving at. "I think they took him." Michael nodded.

"Then let's go get him."

"But we don't know where he is Michael!" Jac said hysterically.

"Where did you last see him?"

"St. Mary's cemetery," Jac replied. Michael thought about this carefully.

"Maybe someone saw what happened," Michael suggested. Jac shrugged limply.

"It's worth a shot, I suppose."

"Then let me explain. Your dear old father borrowed my money and now that he is gone the debt falls to you." Oliver groaned. "You will pay up."

"And if I don't?"

"I will destroy your life from the inside out," the man replied with a cold cackle. "Starting with that ginger bird you're screwing," he added gleefully. Oliver's face turned white.

"You wouldn't," he said unconvincingly. The man stared deep into Oliver's eyes.

"You have no idea what I'm prepared to do," he whispered maliciously.

**TO BE CONTINUED **


	18. Chapter 18

**PART EIGHTEEN**

Michael's car came to a shuddering halt outside the cemetery gates. Jac threw open the door and leapt out. Michael followed suit. The sun was shining brightly masking how Jac felt inside.

"Quiet isn't it?" Michael murmured to Jac as they approached the Cemetery House. Jac said nothing, lost in her thoughts. She rapped her knuckles on the oak door. The door opened slowly revealing a frazzled looking old woman standing in the sunlight. Her grey hair was long and frizzly with one side hanging over her eye and the other sticking up at an awkward angle. She gazed at Jac and Michael with brilliantly hazel eyes.

"Can I help you?" she said in a gravelly voice. Michael cleared his throat but before he could speak Jac took charge.

"We were wondering if we could ask you a couple of questions?" Jac inquired, leaping straight to the point. The woman hummed absentmindedly as she considered Jac's request.

"I suppose that would be okay," she shrugged. She held the door open further and beckoned them inside. "Would you like a coffee?" she asked as Jac and Michael took two seats around the kitchen table. She was clearly attempting to appear less standoffish than she had first seemed.

"Thank you, no. We haven't got long," Michael answered, smiling at her. Jac shot him a disgusted look. Michael replied with a wink that only served to infuriate Jac more.

"So what do you want to know?"

"A friend of ours has gone missing," Jac said simply. The woman gave her a

piercing stare. "He was last seen at this cemetery." She twiddled her thumbs, thinking.

"Young chap? Brown hair?"

"Yes," Michael said uncertainly.

"You were with him," she said pointing a bony finger at Jac. "For a short while."

"Did you see what happened after I left?" Jac said quickly. The woman breathed deeply. She stood up from the table and swept over to the window, looking away from them. She didn't say anything, she just stood there staring across the cemetery. "Please if you know anything..." Jac began but the woman waved a hand to silence her. Yet still she did not reply. Jac tapped her feet impatiently. "A man's life could be in danger!" Jac shouted suddenly.

"Jac!" Michael said warningly. "Cool it." Jac's nostrils were flaring and her expression icy. The woman turned back to them.

"I saw," she said simply.

Luc Hemingway looked up from his work station and caught Eddi staring at him. He quickly looked back down but was grinning like an excited schoolboy.

"Anything interesting Hemingway?" Eddi asked as she sidled up beside him.

"N...yes...well I think so," Luc fumbled over his words. Eddi laughed.

"What is it?"

"Just an unexplained case of salmonella," Luc said as though he was describing the weather. Eddi lent over and gave him a brief kiss on the cheek.

"You're a brilliantly bizarre man Hemingway, you know that?" she said and began to walk away.

"So I've been told!" Luc called after her.

"Excuse me?" said a voice to his right. Luc swivelled around on the chair.

"Can I help?"

"Could you come and have a look at my husband?" Luc nodded at Mrs. Hall and slid gracefully off the chair.

Oliver groaned. His face ached and he could taste blood in his mouth. He felt his face and winced in pain. His left eye was swollen and blotchy and one of his legs was felt wet with blood. Oliver got to his feet unsteadily, there was a short stabbing pain in his right side. He rubbed his hands along it gingerly. He couldn't be sure but it felt like just simple bruising, painful, but manageable. He stared all around, attempting to get his bearings. It took him a few moments to realise that not only was he lost, he was also completely alone. He tried to remember what had happened the night before but it was all a blur. He could recall bits and pieces. A fight...that must have been where he sustained the injuries...something about Jac...about Jac. Oliver's eyes suddenly widened in realisation and fear. He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and tied it like a bandage around the cut on his leg tightly, stemming the bleed. Satisfied that it would hold, Oliver broke out into a desperate run. He didn't know where he was or where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get back to Holby and find Jac, warn her. Somehow.

Jac and Michael were standing by the side of his car still trying to process the weight of the information the old woman had told them. It seemed like a lost cause. They knew Oliver had been taken, they didn't know where and they didn't know who by. It was over before it had begun.

"What do we do now?" Michael said.

"I don't know," Jac said irritably, kicking the gravel at the gates. "It's all my fault, Michael."

"No," Michael told her firmly. "You weren't to know." Jac looked at him with tears in her eyes.

"I left him alone. They waited until I was gone and then they took him."

"You're not to blame Jac! No one could have seen this," Michael said placing a comforting arm around her shoulders. Jac shook it off.

"I could...I should have." Michael caught something in the tone of her voice that made him question it.

"Why?" He asked. Jac said nothing, she just gazed miserably at him. "Jac what's been going on?"

"Oliver's dad owed some men a lot of money. He died before he could pay it back..." Michael let out a yelp of incredulity.

"Jeez Jac! You choose to tell me this now?" Jac sighed. "Why didn't you tell someone?"

"Oliver made me promise! He didn't want people to find out about his dad's mess," Jac shouted emotionally.

"We could have helped! We could have stopped this before it got out of hand!" Michael said exasperatedly. Tears were now streaming down Jac's face.

"What more do you want me to say Michael? That I'm sorry? That I wish I could take it back and do things different? Because believe you me, I wish all of that! But we can't turn the clocks back, we have to find Oliver before it's too late!" Jac's expression was determined and forceful. Michael quietly admired it.

"This is on your head Naylor," Michael said after a moments consideration. "Come on."

**TO BE CONTINUED **


	19. Chapter 19

**PART NINETEEN**

Oliver sprinted as fast as he could. His whole body ached but he had to keep going, he had to find Jac. He had to get to her before they did. If something happened to her he would never forgive himself; this was all his fault. Oliver was breathing heavily, sweat dripping from his bloodied forehead as he rounded another corner and kept on running towards Holby. Suddenly his foot caught underneath a tree root sticking just above the gravel and Oliver found himself flung forwards and falling flat on his face. He picked himself back up, spitting gravel and mud out of his mouth with a grimace. He tried to continue the run but as he put his left foot out in front of him he yelled out in pain and toppled over once again. Tears streamed in his eyes as he examined it and saw that his ankle was sprained. Oliver slammed a fist into the ground angrily.

"Oh that's just great! Just perfect! What the hell am I supposed to do now?" he shouted furiously. Oliver staggered back to his feet, hopping awkwardly on his right leg. He hobbled up to the side of the road and as he leant greatly on the metal road sign he watched the onslaught of traffic that roared past him. There was only one thing for it. Oliver threw out his right arm and attempted to flag down a car to hitchhike. As car after car zoomed past him paying his signal no more heed than you would pay an ant, Oliver felt his temper rising again. Eventually a car came to a screeching halt beside him and wound down the window.

"Are you lost?" asked a woman's voice.

"Yes and no," replied Oliver.

"Where you going?" she asked kindly.

"Holby?" Oliver enquired gently.

"Well don't just stand there, get in," the woman told him with a smile. Oliver pulled open the passenger door and climbed inside.

"Thank you," he said breathlessly. The car roared back to life and they set off in the direction of Holby. Oliver sighed with relief. "Oliver," he said introducing himself.

"Kate. I don't mean to be rude," Kate said, shaking her blonde hair out of her eyes. "You look bloody awful." Oliver laughed in spite of himself.

"It's a long story and not one I can share at the moment. But the woman I love, the one who trusted me is in danger and it's all my fault." Kate raised her eyebrows at him in the mirror.

"Why do you say that?" Oliver's expression was that of someone utterly woebegone and helpless.

"I thought I could sort out my father's mess...but I was wrong," he replied, his voice cracking. "And now Jac's involved..."

"Jac?"

"My girlfriend," Oliver explained. "I don't know where she is, I don't know what I'm going to do but I have to find her, I need to explain; then we can face this together," he said dramatically. Kate could see the look of sorrow and determination in his eyes and she knew exactly what he meant.

"You really do love this woman," she said quietly. Oliver nodded. "I hope it works out for you Oliver." The car rode on in silence, passing sign after sign and drawing ever closer to Holby. The sun started to set and before long they were bathed in brilliant red light and then that too faded away and the road was thrown into the darkness of night. Kate had already switched on the lighting. "Tell me about yourself," she said suddenly catching Oliver unawares. "What do you do when you're not hitching lifts from complete strangers?"

"I'm a doctor," Oliver said and a sense of pride welled up inside of him.

"What sort of doctor," Kate asked nosily.

"I'm a CT registrar," Oliver told her. "It's taken a long time to get there," he added as an afterthought as though this made it all the more impressive.

"Not bad, not bad at all," Kate said smiling. Oliver winced as a sharp pain shot through his swollen ankle.

"What about you," he asked, gritting his teeth to bare the pain.

"Oh me? I just work in marketing. Nothing exciting, not like being a doctor. I wish I could save lives," she said with a sigh. "But I've never been able to save so much as a baby mouse."

"You saved me," Oliver said in barely more than a whisper. Kate stared at him through the mirror with her brilliant blue eyes. She didn't respond to his statement but chose to let his words wash over her soul.

"Nearly there," she said as they drove past the 'Welcome to Holby' sign. "Where do you want me to pull over?" Oliver gazed out of the window and peered up at the brightly shining stars.

"Here," he said absentmindedly. "I'll make my way from here." Kate slammed on the brakes and the car shuddered to a stop. Oliver thanked her and pushed open the car door carefully. He clambered out, hobbling on his one good leg.

"Good luck Oliver," Kate said solemnly. "Jac's a lucky woman." Oliver said nothing. He smiled at her and closed the door. Kate watched him limp off into the darkness until he had faded from her sight entirely. She sighed and turned the key in the ignition. The engine spluttered to life, taking Kate further away from the strange young doctor she had met only a few hours before.

"He's not here Naylor!" Michael shouted as he and Jac searched all around for any sign of Oliver's whereabouts. "This is hopeless. We're never going to find him!" Michael said frustratedly.

"Don't say that!" Jac retaliated.

"We don't know where he is. We can't contact him and we don't even know if he's still alive! Face it Naylor, it's time we called the cops-" Jac raised a hand to silence him as her mobile began to ring ominously. Unknown number. She answered it and placed the phone to her ear gingerly.

"Hello?" Jac said nervously.

"Jac? Jac is that you?" Oliver's voice came out of the phone and Jac felt her spirits rise instantly.

"Oliver!" She said elatedly; Michael looked up immediately, his attention fixed upon the sudden phone call. "Where are you?" Jac asked.

"That doesn't matter," Oliver told her quickly. "Jac, listen to me. You have to run, you have to find a safe place. They're coming for you!" Jac's eyes widened in shock.

"What is it?" Michael asked. Jac did not reply, she just stood there frozen to the spot. "Naylor!" Michael shouted.

"Run Jac! They're coming!" Jac silently placed her phone back inside her jacket pocket.

"We have to get out of here," Jac told him abruptly.

"What? Why?" Michael asked and at last he had had enough. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell is going on!"

"We haven't got time Michael! Oliver says they're coming."

"Who's coming? How do they know we're even here?" Michael face was red with rage. Jac sighed exasperatedly.

"It doesn't matter! We just have to leave now!" Jac's face was determined. Michael swiped the air angrily.

"Fine! All right, all right!" He conceded. They walked hurriedly out of the building. Jac felt her mobile ringing again.

"Have you got away?" Oliver's voice asked urgently.

"There's no one here Oliver. Where are you?"

"West Lane Holby, by a phone box." Jac memorised the location in her head.

"Stay there. We're coming," she told him. The phone clicked off again. "West Lane," she said to Michael.

Oliver replaced the phone back and closed the glass door behind him.

"There's a good boy," said a cruel voice patronisingly from beside him. The owner stepped out from under the shadows and his face became visible. Oliver felt sick to the stomach. Jac was walking right into a trap and he had led her here. The man looked down at him with loathing in his eyes. "You've had quite a day of it," he said with harsh laugh and with a sudden sharp movement of his arm, he cuffed Oliver around the ear. Oliver felt the blood running down his cheek. The man raised his arm again.

"That's enough Eric!" said a woman's voice. Oliver twisted his head around in the direction the voice was coming from. At first all he could see was a blurred outline but as the mysterious woman strode closer towards he saw with a look of shock and horror who it was.

"Kate?" Oliver asked incredulously. He did not believe it, he could not believe it. Kate. The woman who had so kindly given him a lift was a part of this. Kate was right up close to him now. She leant down and whispered in his uninjured ear.

"Didn't your parents ever tell you? Never trust a stranger." She walloped him unceremoniously around back of the head with her right hand and Oliver fell sideways to the ground, stars swimming in front of his eyes. Kate, the man named Eric and the two unknown heavies all laughed. They had Oliver where they wanted him, Jac was walking ever closer into the trap and there was nothing anybody could do about it. "Are you ready to watch your life destroyed?" Kate whispered to Oliver, a greedy glint in her eyes.

"You don't know Jac..." Oliver murmured painfully.

**TO BE CONCLUDED **


	20. Chapter 20

**PART TWENTY**

Oliver gazed at Kate with unadulterated loathing in his eyes; she was unfazed by this however and merely smirked in response. She checked her watch; it was now well past midnight. In the far off distance an owl hooted loudly causing Eric to recoil in alarm.

"I hate owls!" He whispered as he caught sight of Kate's scathing look.

"If you make any more noise we'll have the whole of Holby upon us!" Kate murmured back angrily. She pressed a finger to her lips as Eric opened his mouth to protest further. Oliver had watched all of this and an idea was now forming in his mind. What if he could get them to turn on each other? He discreetly turned his back on them and checking to make sure he couldn't be seen, he made a passable impression of a screech owl. At once Eric howled in fright. He didn't care how quiet Kate wanted him to be, there were owls and they terrified the living daylights out of him. Oliver looked over his shoulder first at Eric who was clearly unnerved then at Kate who was struggling to control her anger through gritted teeth. Buoyed by his success, Oliver did another owl impression this time of a barn owl. The effect was instantaneous. Eric shrieked piercingly and began stamping his feet and waving his arms haphazardly. Kate clenched her teeth together, however Oliver did not see her move slowly towards him. Oliver was sure that one more would break them. One more good impression. He readied himself but as he opened his mouth he felt Kate's nails digging painfully under his shoulder-blades.

"One more sound out you and you'll be spitting fragments of tooth out for weeks!" Kate hissed at him furiously. "Try to split us would you?" She spat and smacked Oliver cleanly around the head. "You will not get between us!" Kate hit him again and all Oliver could see were stars dancing in front of his eyes.

Jac and Michael raced towards West Lane. The roads were mercifully clear but it was still the other side of Holby to where they had been and Jac kept pressuring Michael to accelerate faster.

"I'm already going as fast as I can Jac!" Michael retorted as the car soared past 60. "I'm breaking the speed limit as it is and I do not want a point on my license you got that?"

"Left here!" Jac shouted. Michael swung wildly on the steering wheel and the car jerked awkwardly around the corner. "Put your foot down Michael!" Michael ignored her. "Come on Michael!" There was panic in Jac's eyes and desperation. Michael sighed resignedly and pressed the accelerator down hard. The car began to speed up, faster and faster. Past 70, past 80, almost up to 90 miles per hour. Michael's heart was pounding. "Over there!" Jac shrieked suddenly. Michael slammed down on the breaks and the car came to a shuddering stop. Jac threw open the passenger door and before Michael could tell her to wait she was sprinting in the direction of where she'd seen Oliver, unaware of the danger that lurked just ahead.

"Oliver!" Jac said breathlessly. Oliver said nothing. He gestured for Jac to turn back but his warnings were unheeded. Jac took another step towards him and suddenly she could feel her arms being grabbed from both sides. She found herself being pushed unceremoniously to the ground next to Oliver.

"Are you okay?" Oliver whispered.

"I'm feeling just wonderful," Jac murmured back sarcastically. Her annoyance was short lived though when she caught sight of how utterly woebegone and beaten Oliver appeared.

"What are we going to do?" Oliver muttered.

"I don't know," Jac said anxiously. "Where are you?" she whispered frustratedly.

"Who?"

"Michael. He was with me," Jac said quietly.

"Well he's not here now," Oliver winced. Their conversation was cut short as the unwelcome sight of Kate and Eric homed into view.

"I'm sorry to drag you into this," Kate lied to Jac in a sickly sweet voice. "I don't like getting violent. But when debts aren't paid..." She gestured at Oliver, "I can get a little carried away."

"Who are you?" Jac said unperturbed by the unsubtle warnings of Kate.

"Who we are is not important," Eric interrupted suddenly. "What matters is that if this runt can't pay us the money he owes then you must bail him out."

"Or else?" Jac was pressing their buttons deliberately.

"Things will get very nasty for you both," Kate promised.

Michael had seen Jac get taken by two people he did not recognise. For a brief moment he thought they had seen him as well but when no one came for him, Michael realised he was still free. Then another thought struck him. The situation was in his hands. He edged closer towards his friends and drew his hand quietly into his trouser pocket. Taking out his mobile, Michael dialled the number and lifted the device to his ear.

"Holby Emergency Services, how can I help?"

"Police please," Michael whispered carefully, making sure he was not overheard.

"One moment."

"Holby Police, what's the problem?"

"I need police assistance to West Lane Holby. Two people are being held hostage. The assailants are armed," Michael said determinedly.

"Can you give me your name sir?"

"Michael Spence, I'm a doctor at Holby City General."

"Can you tell us exactly what's going on?"

Jac and Oliver were both terrified but they tried not to show it.

"I'll ask again," Kate said dangerously. "Will you give us the money or not?" Jac's face was white with fear.

"I'll tell you again, I don't have anything!" Jac said through gritted teeth.

"Have it your way," Kate replied emotionlessly. She clicked her fingers and Oliver could suddenly feel Eric wrenching him up to his feet. Jac looked on in horror as Oliver was dragged away kicking by the far stronger man. "Listen to me," Kate said forcefully, her cold eyes staring straight into Jac's streaming ones. "He is going to break each bone in your boyfriend's body one by one unless you give me the money!" Jac's face was blotchy from the tears. She didn't know what to do. It would be so simple just to give them the money they craved but the fact was even if she wanted to, she didn't have enough. Between them they still didn't have enough. Kate's patience was running out and she took Jac's prolonged silence for an answer. She nodded curtly at Eric who had thrown Oliver on his back painfully. Oliver was shaking uncontrollably as he watched Eric take out a small hammer from inside his jacket. Eric bent down and took aim. Nothing could prepare Oliver for the pain that was to follow. Eric swung the hammer hard and as it collided with Oliver's lower left leg, he felt the bone shatter and the pain was excruciating. Tears poured out of Oliver's eyes as blood also poured down his leg and with his teeth gritted together Oliver stared down at his leg and saw that part of the bone was exposed to the naked air. There was nothing he could do and as the minutes went by and the hammer fell another three times, Oliver felt the life ebbing away from him. He drifted in and out of consciousness. He knew that if he didn't get to hospital soon it was likely that he would die. He was losing too much blood. He forced his eyes to stay open just a little longer and saw Jac being thrust in front of him. He could see the horror in her eyes, the disgust and the look of sorrow.

"See what your silence has done?" Kate whispered in Jac's ears. Jac didn't answer. There was nothing she or anyone could say that could alleviate the disgust she felt about herself. She saw Oliver gazing at her through weakened eyes and felt her heart break in two as she realised he still stared at her with love etched across his whole being. She didn't deserve his love. "Your turn." Kate muttered excitedly at her but Jac paid no attention. She didn't even flinch as she felt Eric force her to all fours and climb animalistic-like on top of her. Oliver tried to cry out, to stop it but the strength left him at last and his head fell awkwardly to the right; he was unconscious. Jac was sobbing...then everything went white.

Through the din, Jac could hear shouting; raised voices screeching to the night. She couldn't see. Her whole body ached and her mind raced. Then all of a sudden, Jac felt herself being lifted to her feet. Terrified that it was Eric back for more, Jac kicked out violently and struggled against her captor.

"Jac!" Michael's voice came out clearly across all other noises. "Jac it's me, it's Michael!" Jac stopped kicking out. Her body relaxed and went limp. She felt Michael drag her away and then another thought hit her like a bolt of lightning.

"Oliver!" Jac yelled. "Michael we have to go back! Oliver!"

"He's going to be all right! Jac listen to me! Listen to me!"

**EPILOGUE**

_Three Weeks Later_

Oliver hobbled on his crutches towards Jac who stood silently by the window of his hospital room. She was holding a newspaper and reading it solemnly.

"It's over," Jac said quietly passing the paper to Oliver. Oliver stared briefly at the front page headline.

_Violent Duo Sentenced_

"I'm sorry," Oliver said softly. "It was my fault you got involved." Jac waved her arms for Oliver to be quiet. She turned away from the window and placed her arms around Oliver's waist. Oliver unhooked his crutches and leant in towards her, holding her with his one good arm. They kissed. Jac took hold of Oliver's uninjured hand and squeezed it gently. A song began to play out of the radio in Oliver's room.

_"I light a candle to our love. In love our problems disappear. But all in all we soon discover. That one and one is all we long to hear..." _Jac and Oliver both smiled but Oliver could see that something was bothering Jac.

"What's up? There's no need to feel sad, we got through it..." Oliver's voice tailed away as he caught sight of the look on Jac's face.

"Oliver," Jac said uncertainly. "I'm pregnant." Oliver's eyes widened in shock as Jac stared at him meaningfully.

_"Let us show them how to play...the pipes of peace. Play, the pipes of peace..." _

**THE END **


End file.
